Conditioned Association
by the morrighan
Summary: The aftermath leads to new discoveries, new decisions, and new resolve.
1. Chapter 1

Conditioned Association

White.

The starkness assaulted John Sheppard's weary eyes. The pillow. The sheets. The scrubs. The brightness of the color. A sea of white upon which his wife was reclined. Her pale, pale face silent, still. Marred by a bruise at the corner of her mouth. A crimson, jagged scratch across one pale, pale cheek. Her glorious brown hair spread all over the white pillow. But still, so still. Like the rest of her. As still as the grave, he thought, but pushed the thought aside with almost physical force. Gut clenching, muscles coiled in tension. Despair. Fear.

He toucher hand, prone at her side. Curled his fingers around her stiff ones. Gently forcing them to bend, to assume the semblance of responding. Of receiving his touch, his warmth. His love.

"Um, sir, the, the, Doctors McKay and Zelenka are requesting your codes to secure the city," a very nervous marine stammered, approaching but freezing in his tracks.

John looked over at the man. Gaze like steel. "The city can go to hell for all I care!" he said harshly. Voice raw, rough. "Go! Get the hell out of here!"

The marine retreated, stumbling backwards, almost falling in his haste.

He turned back to his wife. Her hand felt cold in his. He caressed the pale, pale skin. As if he could revive her by this one act. This one touch. His gaze moved down her body slowly. White scrubs under a white sheet. His gaze pausing on her abdomen where a faint, faint red stain broke up the otherwise blinding sea of white. He pursed his lips together, staring at the stain, not knowing what it meant. Afraid to ask, but knowing he should. He looked back up at her face again. The slow, shallow breathing nearly indiscernible.

He heard footsteps. Looked up, ready to kill anyone else who dared to interrupt. But his stomach clenched as the doctor neared. Compassionate expression on his face. "Carson?" he croaked, breath catching in his throat. Heart going still.

Carson Beckett smiled. "She's fine. The baby's fine. There's no need to worry, John."

John stared, the words incomprehensible for a moment. He glanced back at his wife. Then to the doctor. "You...you're sure?"

"Aye, John. All the scans show no internal injuries. Apart from a mild knock on her head, and the bruise on her lip. The cut on her cheek which will heal, in time. Moira is unharmed, as is the baby. She protected the baby very well." Carson saw John's quick glance to the stain on the sheet. "That's from her cheek. It bled quite a bit. The baby is fine, John. A strong little solider, that one. Moira will be asleep for several hours yet." Carson moved to the other man's side. Patted his shoulder. "I'll give you a few minutes, but then, colonel, you need to reset the lock down codes and secure the city."

"Thank you." John scooted closer to the bed. Lifted Moira's hand to his lips. Kissed. Pressed her fingers to his forehead, his cheek. Head bowed as he closed his eyes. Tears threatening, burning behind his eyes. He pursed his lips together as emotions overwhelmed. Relief. Fear. Sorrow. Anger. Loss. Blame. Guilt. He forced them all down. Let the relief flood him. Calmed himself. Lifted his head to gaze upon her. He freed her hand. Wiped his eyes. Kissed her brow. A tender motion of his lips upon her. Stood. Turned. "Carson, if there's any change, if she wakes up or–"

"I'll inform you immediately. Go. They're both fine, I promise you, John," Carson assured.

John took a deep breath, released it. Looked at Moira and turned as Evan Lorne entered.

"Sir?" His gaze darted to Moira. Anxiety lining his face.

"She's fine. Asleep. Ronon?"

"Recovering. More pissed than injured," Evan replied. The men briefly smiled. "Requesting permission to retrieve the body of, of Josephes, sir."

John nodded. "Of course, major. Take a Jumper, and a team, just to be sure." He tapped his earpiece. "Reynolds, supervise clean-up in the Wraith lab. Dispose of every piece of that bitch. Rodney, I'm on my way." He looked back at Moira again. Assuring himself she was alive. Breathing. Just asleep. He turned. Left the infirmary.

* * *

Moira Sheppard stirred. Memories surfaced, swarmed. Hazy, indistinct images but began to take on clarity. A Wraith queen wavering in and out of existence, with Aaron Josephes. John shouting her name. Racing towards her. Towards a Wraith. Impaling it savagely with a sword, then beheading it in one swift, sure motion. Terrifying clarity as the queen towered over her. Clawed hand running over her body. Sucker protruding obscenely, over her abdomen. Taking hold, sucking greedily at the tiny life within.

"John!" Moira bolted upright, wild panic seizing her. "John, John, no no no no!" A pair of hands caught her, eased her back onto the bed. "John!"

"Easy, Moy, easy, I'm here!" John soothed, holding her firmly. "Moira! Look at me! Moy, it's all right, sweetheart."

Moira stared, calming. John's strong but gentle grasp on her shoulders. His handsome, weary face above hers. "I...I...John...John, she...John junior?" she asked tearfully.

"Fine. He's fine. You protected him, Moira," John assured, slightly easing his grip on her.

"She..." Moira closed her eyes a moment. Touched her abdomen. "I...I tried...I...John...she, she tried to, to take him! To, to feed on..." She opened her eyes, sat. "She sensed him! She knew! Knew about me, the, the poison, the gene, the, the baby, she sensed the baby the harvest the–"

"It's over, Moira." He sat close, took her into his arms. Stroked her back and kissed her brow, pressing her to him. Needing the feel of her body next to his. "She's dead. Dead, well and truly dead this time. And you are fine. John junior is fine. I'm fine. Except for you scaring the shit out of me!"

"Sorry, John," she mumbled. Holding onto to him tight. Wanting to believe his words. Needing to believe him except for that whisper of fear in her mind. "Are, are you sure?" She pulled back from him. Touched his face. The stubbly beard. Dark shadows under his eyes. Eyes a brilliant green but haunted. So haunted. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Moy, I'm sure. Absolutely sure," he insisted. Touching her hand still at her abdomen. "I wouldn't lie to you. He's fine. Untouched. You protected him."

She relaxed. "You, you look like hell, John."

He smiled. "I could say the same of you, Moira." He gently touched her bruised lip. The cut across her cheek. "Moira..." His smile faded. "Moira, I...I'm sorry. I...it's my fault, I–"

"No." She touched his lips. "Not yours. Not anyone's. Not..." She felt tears. "Aaron. Aaron's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes. I'm sorry." He kissed her uncut cheek. Drew her into his arms again. "It's my fault, Moy. I should have listened! I should have known–"

"How could you have known? We could never have foreseen this. How, how powerful she was...what she wanted...the, the harvest...the..." She shuddered.

"Yes, we could. The clues were there. You tried to warn me. Moira, Moira, if, if anything had happened to you or to the baby I...I couldn't...I..."

"No." She touched his lips again, halting his self-incriminating words, his grief. "You saved me, John. Saved us. Both of us."

"But not Aaron." He sighed. "Moy, the clues were there all along. Second queen to pawn. We need to look at the flash drive."

"The what? Why?" She considered. "You think there's a fourth message. You don't really think the, the colonel would have–"

"I don't know. But we have to find out. Moira." He kissed her lips gently. "Rest. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm fine, John. Just a little shaken up, is all." She licked her lips. "Actually...a little hungry."

"Hungry?" he asked, raised a brow. "Huh."

"Hunger is good," Carson stated, nearing. He smiled. "You were very lucky, Moira. Apart from the bumps and bruises and that scratch you are unharmed. And John is right. The baby is fine. Absolutely fine, I promise you. John, I'm sorry, but Rodney needs you to input your codes again. In the meantime I will get my favorite patient something to eat."

"No," John refused. "I am staying with Moira."

"Go on, John," she insisted. Gently pushing free of his arms. "I'm fine. Please. You need to set those codes. Then, then I want to go to our room. Carson?"

"I don't see why not, as long as John looks after you."

"If you're sure?" John asked, reluctantly letting her slip free of his arms.

"I'm sure. Go on, John."

John kissed her. "All right. Back in five." He looked at Carson as he stood. The two men crossed the room. "Doc, are you sure you can release her?"

"Yes. I want her out of here before Evan brings back Aaron's body. I don't want her to see that."

"Oh. Good thinking. Thanks. I'll be back in five. And you're sure, you are certain she is fine and the baby is fine?"

Carson nodded. "Yes, John. I wouldn't release her otherwise. They are both fine. Go."

* * *

Moira waited until John had departed. She shifted, moving the scrub top to view her abdomen. Faint, faint marks lingered from the Wraith queen's sucker. She shivered. Dropped the shirt and looked up as Carson neared. "Tell me."

Carson hesitated, brow creasing as he glanced around the infirmary. Back to Moira who was steadily gazing at him. Calm. Resolute. Stubborn. "It's nothing, love, I swear."

She frowned. "Carson. It must be something. I remember that, that thing trying to feed on me. No. Not on me. On the, the baby. It sensed it, Carson! It knew! It knew I was the one, the poisoner, the gene...so it must have communicated telepathically with the ATA ones. How else would it know about my genetic code? The ATA gene? And it sensed the baby. It, it wanted the baby, Carson, the harvest. It tried to...what did it do?"

Carson sat on the bed next to her. Took her hand into hers. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Carson, don't you dare lie to me! What is wrong with the baby?"

"Nothing, I swear! Love, the baby is fine. Because of the, the attack, the sucker...the baby has shifted a wee bit, but it's nothing to be alarmed about. The baby will be needing more room in either case, and will get larger. It's not that."

"Then what? Carson?"

"It's the baby, Moira. The baby is perfectly fine. Developing normally. Healthy, strong. Very strong."

"Well, that's good, right? Right? Wait...strong...you mean...strong in the gene? The ATA gene. The double I have because of–"

"You don't have the double, Moira." Carson glanced at her abdomen, met her gaze. "The baby does."


	2. Chapter 2

Conditioned Association2

John keyed in the last code. Tapped the enter button. He sighed, looked over as Rodney McKay entered his. The system re-booted. Scrolling data appeared. Rivers of colors, of figures, of numbers. A schematic of the entire city appeared. Grid by grid. Flashing green to indicate the re-set of each section. Secure. John tapped his earpiece. "Citywide, lieutenant." He swallowed. "This is Colonel Sheppard. Attention all Atlantis personnel. Lock down is over. I repeat, lock down is over. The city is secure. All threats eliminated. All SOP and regulation protocols resume. Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece. "Reynolds, report."

"Sir. Disposing of the last bits now, sir," Jason Reynolds said, grimacing as he watched his men collecting the messy, scattered remains of the Wraith. "I will need your access codes to re-secure the Wraith lab."

"Copy. On my way. Sheppard out." He tapped the sequence again. Sighed. Stared at nothing. Mind sharply focused on his wife, his child. "Lorne," he said suddenly. "Lorne should be back shortly with Lieutenant Josephes' body. Alert Carson when he gets here. Then get some rest, Rodney."

Rodney clasped his hand on John's shoulder. "You too, John. We're secure now. All we need to do is to insert Elizabeth's codes when she gets back. You, you are certain that Moira and the kid are okay?"

"Yeah. They're both okay."

"Thank God! I...I should have realized sooner, when the Impulse Blocker went off like a Christmas tree, the totality of the disruption wave I could have increased it sooner and then we–"

John eyed him. "You mean the Wraith Detector?"

"No. It's called the Impulse Blocker, or IB for short. It doesn't so much as detect Wraith as much as it detects, er, blocks subsonic, low level sequences that can create illusions or block visual perceptions in the frontal lobe to–"

"Like a Wraith. Only a Wraith can emit them. So it's a Wraith Detector, or WD, for short. You're not allowed to name anything, remember? Get some rest." He headed out of the control room.

"You too, John!" Rodney called. Staring after his friend. "Impulse Blocker," he muttered.

John strode to the Wraith lab, viewed the last of the carnage being cleared away. The body parts were being destroyed, incinerated in the main lab. He grimaced, stepped round a grisly pool of gore and blood. Pieces of brain sticking to the wall. Drops of Moira's blood still shining on the floor, leading to the inner Wraith lab. The lab that had saved her life. Their son's life.

"Sir? This is the last of it," Jason assured.

"Good. Good work, major." John moved to the inner lab. He set the numeric code. Pressed his hand to the panel. It turned from green to red. Chimed. The door closed. He entered his code again. Heard the door securely lock. "Finish here and then stand down. Dismissed for twenty-four."

"Thank you, sir. Um, sir, is Doctor Sheppard all right?"

It took John a moment t realize he was asking after Moira. He nodded. "Yes. She's fine. Thank you." John left, wearily trod to the infirmary. He stared, seeing the empty bed. Quelled a surge of panic. "Carson?" He walked over as Carson hastily covered a body on another bed.

"Lieutenant Josephes, poor lad," he quickly informed. "Moira's safe in your rooms. I took her there myself, before she could see this. I don't want you to see this either, John."

"You need to get some rest, doc," he noted.

"Aye, after this. Go to Moira, John. She's fine. Eating heartily. There's a sandwich for you but I think you may miss out on it if you don't hurry."

John smiled briefly. "That's a good sign, then?"

"Yes. She's fine. Both of them are fine. She's alert. Awake. Hungry. Go."

"Let me see." He indicated the body.

"No. You don't need to see–"

"Moira doesn't need to see this. I do. It's my responsibility."

Carson sighed. Drew back the sheet. John stared grimly at the young man. His head lolling at an odd angle. Face still full of fright, frozen forever in terror. Blue eyes staring wide, filming over as death claimed him. "It was quick. He didn't feel a thing. The neck was broken instantly," Carson informed.

"No...just sheer terror before the end," John noted.

Carson covered the body. "Go to Moira," he insisted. "There's nothing more you can do here."

"Get some rest, doc."

John trudged to his quarters. Saw Ronon Dex standing guard. Stoic. Bruise marks of a deep bluish black ringing his throat like a gruesome necklace.

"Sheppard," Ronon croaked, voice still raw. He straightened. "I failed you. I tried but–"

"You did good, buddy," John said, ignoring the flare of resentment, anger. The failure to defend Moira. What could have happened to her if not for her own quick thinking.

"No. I failed. I couldn't kill it. I didn't realize it was with us until it was too late. Moira...Moira stayed to help me. She should have run but she stayed...I couldn't kill it. I barely slowed it down, I..." The Satedan's voice was emotional, guilt-ridden.

"Moira's stubborn. You did a number on that thing. Softened it, weakened it enough so I could kill it. More importantly you bought Moira time. Time to get to the safety of the Wraith lab and lock herself in. You did good."

"Not good enough, John. I'm sorry."

John held the other man's gaze for a moment. "Get some rest. I'm here now." Ronon nodded, limped down the hallway. John watched him go. Frowned. Entered his room. Crossed to theirs. He walked slowly. Moira was seated at the table, instead of on the bed where the blankets were folded down invitingly. She was finishing her sandwich, staring at nothing.

Moira swallowed. Sipped some water. Turned suddenly. "John." She smiled. Pulled out a chair. "Please. You need to eat. Are your hands clean?"

He stared, uncomprehending. The normalcy of the scene startling after so much horror, fear, death. He looked down at his himself. "Oh." He was covered in blood and gore. Shirt and arms splattered with it. Pants nearly drenched. Stained darkly. "No wonder people were giving me strange looks," he muttered.

She smiled. "Yes, you do look a fright. Right out of a B-grade horror movie."

He eyed his hands. Turning them over to view his palms. They were relatively clean. He remembered scrubbing them before touching Moira in the infirmary.

"Good enough. Come here, sweetie."

He plopped down onto the empty chair.

She shoved a plate towards him. A sandwich. Fries. "_Meleagris gallapavo mutatis mutandis._ Turkey, with the necessary changes. Just how you like it."

"I'm not that hungry, Moy, I–" But his stomach growled, refuting his words. His lips quirked. "Okay, maybe I can eat a little."

"And I know you need this." She set a bottle of beer in front of him. Smirked as his eyes lit up.

He smiled. Met her gaze. "God, yes! Moira, I love you!" She laughed as he opened it, took a gulping swallow. Adam's apple bobbing as he tilted his head back. Scruff lining his jaw, his throat. Lips pursed on the bottle's upturned neck. Strong hand clutching it securely. Long fingers wrapped around it. He freed it, smacked his lips in pure satisfaction. Ran his tongue over them. Sighed happily. He lifted the sandwich. Took a big bite. Lettuce crunched. Ranch dressing squirted. He hummed his enjoyment. Food had never tasted so good. He chewed, chewed. Swallowed. Took another long sip of beer. Caught her staring at him. Met her gaze. "What?" Saw her admiring expression. Love. Desire.

Moira leaned close. Closer. Lightly brushed his lips with hers. Licked the corner of his mouth where a blob of Ranch dressing rested. Her tongue darting in and out, captivating him. She sat back. "Messy." She ate a French fry.

He smiled. Downed the last of the beer. Pouted. "Only one?"

She rolled her eyes, but produced another bottle from behind some flowers. "There. But you need to finish your sandwich."

"No problem, sweetheart. I'm ravenous."

She smiled coyly. Touched his thigh for a moment. "Really?"

He caught her innuendo, flirtation. Gave her an admonishing look. Attacked the sandwich with gusto now. Grabbed a handful of fries from her plate.

"Hey, flyboy!" she protested.

He grinned. "All's fair, baby," he retorted. "Stop staring at me! I am not on the menu." He considered. "At least not yet."

She pouted. "But I love watching you eat. I love watching you, sweetie. Especially when you are ravenous."

He gave her a stern look, but smiled. Gaze now wandering over her. The clean gray t-shirt hugging her breasts. Her waist. Her hips encased in gray slacks. Her ponytail trapping her clean hair. Her breasts again, outlined deliciously in the fabric. He met her gaze. She sipped some water. Licked her lips. He finished eating, trying to suppress a rush of desire. He ate the last of the fries. Drank some beer, sipping now. Savoring. He sat back finally, raised a brow. "So? I know that look, Moy. What?"

Moira opened her laptop. "First you need to get cleaned up, colonel. Head to toes. Then we need to see the flash drive."

"Now? The fourth message," he realized sourly. "Don't want to."

"We may as well get it over with, John," she retorted.

He sighed. "All I want to do is to crawl into that bed with you, Moira. But I'll get cleaned up first. You need to rest. Not work. Sleep." He leaned close, kissed her. Stood. Eyed her. Smiled suddenly. "Care to join me?"

"When you are clean. Now scoot!"

He sighed. Entered his room. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Felt a revulsion that had nothing to do with his gore-encrusted clothing. His bloody skin. He quickly stripped, dumping his clothes in a heap over his boots. Stepped into the hot water. Let it pour over him, pound him. Every muscle suddenly ached and he was so tired. He scrubbed every inch of his skin, washed his hair. Tried not to think of anything. But his thoughts flitted all over. To Moira. Their baby. The Wraith who had invaded Atlantis. To Moira's desirous look. He almost wished she was with him. Chided himself for having sexual ideas now. He lingered, hoping she would fall asleep. He did not want to look at the flash drive. At yet another message from his dark side, alternate self.

Moira heard the water running, running. Still running. She smiled. Knew he was evading her. She was very tempted to join him but refrained. She waited, thoughts scattering. Emotions threatening. The startling news about the baby she carried. Having not one ATA gene but two. She had no idea what it could mean, nor had Carson. She pondered, pondered, but worry was taking over and she shunted the information aside. Focused on John. Clung to him. Picturing him in the shower. Recalled him eating. Drinking. The way he had killed that Wraith. She rose, moved to change her clothes.

John stepped out of the shower at last. He dried off, using two towels. Combed his hair. Fussed with it. Stroked his chin, his jaw. The stubbly scruff. Smiled rakishly. Knew that Moira liked him that way sometimes. Her rough and ready soldier. Making her wild, vividly arousing her. He swore, trying to block the sexual desires again. He pulled off his wedding ring. Saw a spot of blood on the gold band. He scrubbed it clean. Meticulously.

Moira heard the sink now, the water. Hoped he wasn't shaving. Wanted him all scruffy and wild. Rough to the touch. The sensations turned her on, his masculine smell. The feel of his roughness on her naked skin. She shifted, trying to quell her desire. Waited for him.

John dried off his wedding ring. Slipped it back onto his finger. Still lingering. Curious why she hadn't yet bothered him or interrupted. Realized she knew he needed some privacy. He smiled. He fussed with his hair again. Rubbed his chin. Emerged to pull on a faded red t-shirt, blue and red checkered pajama bottoms. He padded out on bare feet to their room. Glanced longingly at the bed. But Moira was still sitting at the table. Her hair was loose, beckoning his fingers. She was clad in her sabertooth cat pajamas. Fuzzy blue socks on her feet.

Moira looked over, smiled at him. "John."

He neared, pouting. Petulant. "Moira," he whined, "can't we just go to bed?"

"No, sweetie. Flash drive first. Please, John. Let's get this done, shall we?"

He sighed. Stood unmoving. She just stared at him expectantly. He sighed heavily. "Fine." He trudged back to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

Conditioned Association3

Moira smiled, feeling a surge of love, of sympathy for her husband. Knew he was exhausted. Probably sore. But she knew they would be thinking of this and unable to sleep. Not that she wanted sleep just yet. She found herself wanting him, needing him. He was incredibly sexy. Tousled hair. Scruffy beard. Red shirt clinging to his muscles, to his lean form. The red and blue bottoms outlining his hips, legs. Other parts of his anatomy. She shifted on the chair again.

John opened the dresser drawer, unlocked the strong box he kept there. Grabbed the flash drive. Stood a moment staring at the meager contents. Scowled. Briefly touched a photo. Shut the box, the drawer. Trudged back to Moira. He set the flash drive on the table. Plopped onto the chair again.

"Thank you, sweetie. Why don't you curl up in bed?"

He frowned. "And let you watch this alone? Hell no." He patted his thighs. "Here. Like we always do."

She inserted the drive into the computer. Accessed the screen. The blue planet icon. She hesitated. Keenly aware of her awakening desires, arousal. Knew he would be too. She moved to straddle his lap, her back to him. She shifted, getting comfortable.

His arms encircled her. One hand resting on her abdomen, as if to shield his child from what was to come. He sat up, so close now his breath caressed her cheek, her ear. "Go ahead. Who are the fourth couple?"

"You remembered? Wow. Let me think a minute."

"Take two," he teased. Stroking her thigh with his other hand. Drinking in the scent of her. Strawberries. Vanilla. A whiff of floral essences. The weight of her body on his. Solid. Real. He shifted a little, smiled. Felt the softness. Felt the pants, her panties. A subtle moistness that made him lick his lips. He kissed her throat. "Why don't we just go to bed, baby," he suggested in a low voice. Tired but warm. Sore but aroused.

"Not yet, sweetie. Okay...maybe this..." She typed in the previous sequences until another name popped on the screen. "Fionn Mac Cumhal," she read. "In his early heroic days, and his lost love Sadb, who is, who is taken from him in the form of a beautiful deer after giving birth to his son Oisin." At his silence she continued, typing the name onto the screen, "you may remember Fionn from the third couple? The aging king who pursued Grainne and Naoise?"

"Yes," John said quietly.

"Oh. That was it," she commented.

The screen flashed. The colonel appeared. A darker, rougher, more haggard version of John. Moira drew back a little, unsettled. John enfolded her in his close embrace. Her back against his chest now. Stared at the colonel. His darker self. The one who had lost his version of Moira. At that moment John understood. Having almost lost his. Having almost lost so much more. He started as the colonel began to speak. In Gaelic. Gruff voice harsh, foreign to John's ears. He couldn't understand a word of it, except Moira's name. "When the hell did I learn Irish?" he muttered. "Moy? Translate."

Moira was transfixed. Startled by the similarities, the differences to the man with her now. Astonished at his use of Gaelic. The words flowing from him in his low voice. "In a sec," she whispered, riveted.

John felt her tense. Her gasp. Her hand suddenly on his, pressing it to her abdomen. He twisted round to gauge her reactions. Saw her surprise, dismay. Sympathy. Jealousy flared a moment.

"Shit! Moira, translate now! Word for word! Every word! Exactly!" he demanded, as the image faded. Silence.

"My God..." she whispered. "It's my fault. My fault..." she stammered.

"What is? Moy?" he said, frustrated.

She turned to meet his gaze. "We could have prevented this, John! Well, not prevented it but we could have been forewarned, prepared. I should have accessed the message sooner! Why did I wait? Why? I should have–"

"I should have let you, Moy. You kept trying but I wouldn't let you. It's my fault," he realized. "Word for word. Now."

"It's not your fault, John! No, none of this is–"

"Word for word," he repeated tersely. Quietly. "Every word. Or I will send it to Earth and have someone there do it for me, and I'd rather not."

"Of course, John! I'd never lie to you!"

"I know. But don't omit a single word either," he advised sternly.

Moira kissed him. Turned back to the screen. "I'll have to rewind it, then play it. Word for word, John. Every word." She played it again. Spoke in time to the colonel's raspy voice as she translated aloud for John. "Moira, I knew you would crack the last code. The last message. My sweet Moira, this is for you alone. If you haven't encountered second queen to pawn you soon will. If our ATA Wraith invade your reality they will communicate with the other queens telepathically. They will know about you, Moira. The threat you pose. Your DNA and the poison you developed. Moira, you can't, you cannot let John impregnate you. Not now. Not ever." She paused, swallowing.

John's hand was firmly pressed to her abdomen. "Too late for that," he said quietly. "Go on."

Moira continued. "The risk factor is too high. To Atlantis. To you. To the unborn child. You must come to me, Moira. You will be safer here. You will be safe and any child we have will be safe. You do understand the potential a child of ours possesses. The ATA genetic codes of both of us, plus the double. They will kill to possess it. Possess you. You cannot have a child with John. Not there. Here you can. With me. My sweet Moira, only here with me can you be safe. If there was a second queen she will know about the breeding program. The harvest. If the ATA Wraith come through the Stargate then God help you all. Moira, only I can save you. Protect you. Love you. Understand you as John never could, never can. Give you a child to raise safely. I will wait for you, Moira."

Moira fell silent. Nervous. She closed the link. The laptop. Could only imagine John's reactions. Guilt. Blame. Realization. Anger. Jealousy. His fingers were still caressing her thigh, her abdomen. But the rest of him had gone very still. Moira caressed his hand at her abdomen. She proceeded cautiously. "John. You know part of this is him playing you. He knew I would show you, tell you. Translate every word for you. Word for word. He's deliberately baiting you. Taunting you."

"I know." John's voice was low. Grave. "But he's right. You were right. If we had heard this intel earlier we would have been forewarned. At least I could have gotten you to safety."

"No. I'm not leaving you, John."

"To Pleistocene Park, at least," he continued, staring at the roses adorning the table. "I'm making too many mistakes, Moira. Mistakes he never would have made. Damn him!" The fury came and went.

Moira turned to him, swung her legs together now to sit sideways. She kissed him. "No, John. We've all blundered but we came through. All of us. So don't you go blaming yourself for everything, because everything is not your fault! I won't let you wallow in more guilt, John! I won't! Please!"

He met her gaze. Touched her bruised lip. Her cut cheek. Fingers gentle. Tender. "I've been selfish, Moy. So goddamned selfish. I should have sent you to Earth the second we learned you were pregnant. I should send you there now. I should–"

"No! No, I won't hear you talk like that, John! I'm not leaving you, nor is John junior. So stop those contingency plans right now!" She kissed him, nestled against him. Stroked his chest. The red t-shirt. She idly wondered if he had on red boxers. "I love you, John. You. I am carrying your son, colonel. Yours."

"We may not have a choice, Moy," he grimly observed.

"There's always a choice, sweetie."

"And what was that? Double?" he asked, gaze narrowing as she almost visibly flinched. "Moira? Tell me now, damn it!"

She sighed. "It's...Carson discovered it when he was scanning the baby, to make sure the baby was okay. The baby is okay, John, don't you worry. It's fine. The baby, the baby just has a, a double."

He stared at her. "A double what? Wait...wait...a double ATA gene? Well, we knew that, didn't we? Yours and mine, right, and then yours which gives you the double–"

"No, John, we were wrong. It's not me. It's the baby. The baby has two. Ours, yes, and another one. And no, we have no idea what it means but Carson assured me the baby was healthy and strong and only time will tell." She stood. "Let's go to bed. I want to be in bed with you, sweetie, please. John?" She caught his hand. Led him there. Turned off the lights. Got under the covers. "John?"

He relented. Mind reeling over everything. He got in next to her. Frowning. Relishing this, just the simple act of getting into the same bed with her. Even with no sex, just comfort. Cuddling. Sleep. Having come so close to losing her he was almost afraid to go to sleep. To take his eyes off her. Off their child. "We may have to send you to–"

She kissed him, cutting off his words, his decisions. She pushed him onto his back. Slid over him. Kissing him over and over. His arms went around her. She stroked his hair. Ran her mouth to circle his ear. To bite until he groaned.

"Moy?" he asked, uncertain, although her intentions seemed clear. Very clear as her body pressed against his. All curves and softness inviting him, luring him. Her mouth returned to his. Kiss after kiss. She nibbled his lower lip. Her hands sliding up under his shirt. Nails raking gently on his skin, tugging his hair. "Moy?" he repeated.

She smiled, lifted up a little to view his handsome, perplexed face. "Sorry, John. You look so, so fucking...scrumptious."

"Scrumptious?" he asked, raising a brow. Not sure whether to be amused or offended. Not caring as her body squirmed on his.

"Hmm, yes, absolutely rough and ready, sweetie. Well, not quite ready yet. Didn't you tell me that all women want your cock inside of them? John...I am a woman." She kissed him. Her had slid down to caress. Grasp gently. Then a little harder.

"You most certainly are, baby, but now? I mean...I mean now? Are you up for it?"

She laughed softly. "Oh, I am. The question is, colonel, are you? Up for it? Let me see if you can get it up for me." She kissed him again, caressing. Stroking.

"Oh fuck..." he groaned, reacting to her wooing. "I'm sure you can if I can't," he quipped. Relaxed and tense all at once. "Moy? What about John junior? Hasn't he had enough of being jostled around?"

"He's strapped in secure, sweetie. And besides, you could never hurt him. Or me. And he needs turbulence training, doesn't he? He's a fighter, like you. I saw you, John." She kissed him, gliding down to pull up his shirt. To kiss along his waist.

He groaned, shifting. "Saw me?"

"I saw you. Before I passed out. I saw you kill the queen." She slid to kiss his mouth. Trailed her kisses to his ear. "So strong, so brave. One massive thrust to impale her, all the way through..." she breathed into his ear. "All that strength, anger...thrust..." She circled his ear, bit gently. Harder. "Are you hard now, colonel? Can you deploy that thrusting ordnance in me?"

John groaned, giving in at last. Needing her, wanting her. He kissed her passionately. Rolled them so she was beneath. Kisses passionate, yearning. Hungry. Tongue plying hers as his hands slid along her body. Shoving up her top to caress bare breasts. To stare, then mouth them eagerly. Sloppily.

Moira moaned happily, arching into his mouth. As his tongue plied her nipples. His scruffy face sending a delicious abrasion through her. "Oh John! John, John, John!" she enthused, eager, breathless. Legs spreading wide. Needing him, wanting him. But he stopped suddenly. Moira felt the cool air on her wet nipple as he met her gaze, lifting his head. Her fingers sliding from his hair to his broad shoulders. "John?"

He kissed her, gentler now. Fingers sliding out of her crotch where they had been stroking, caressing her cleft, making her wet. Making her whimper, squirm. "Moira," he said deeply. Cock throbbing now against her. So intense, so hungry. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, John, please!" She pulled him into a kiss, pulling at his shirt. Making soft, whimpering sounds that aroused the hell out of him. He kissed her repeatedly, yanking down the pajama pants, the panties as his fingers probed. Slid in to make her gasp, moan, arch. "Oh John! John, John, please oh God! John, John, fuck me, just fuck me!"

He drowned her arousal, her demands in kisses. Shoving her legs wide as he freed them of all hampering materials. She pulled down his pants, found no boxers. Nothing at all but his eager, hard cock to slide inside her. He groaned, grunting as he thrust, thrust into her. Throbbing with need, hunger. Desire.

Moira moaned loudly, crying out and clinging as he thrust harder, faster. A frenzy building. Relentless sliding over her, in her, bringing her hotly. She was pulsing, clenching repeatedly on him now. The bed was rocking wildly. The broken headboard slamming the wall. Writhing wildy under him. "John! John!" she cried as the climax flooded. Waves of pleasure, possession inundating her. "Oh John! John, John, John!"

"Fuck! Oh fuck!" he growled, straining inside her. Reveling in the feel of her. The snugness, the tightness. Propelling him onward, onward, friction building. Coming hard and fast. "Moira! Oh God that is sweet! Moira, Moira, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he exclaimed as he came. Shaken by spasms as the release guided each thrust now. He slowed, slowed. Fell upon her. Scooted his weight off to kiss her. Kiss her repeatedly now, tongue gliding. Down her throat as she murmured, catching her breath. Down to her breasts. Down to her waist. "Sorry, John junior," he muttered, "I had to have your mom in a real bad way...so fucking sweet." He rolled onto his back. "Oh fuck, fuck...fuck!" He breathed heavily, smiled.

"Fuck indeed," she said breathlessly, causing him to snort with amusement. She rolled towards him. Snuggled on top of him. Yanked the blankets over them. She kissed him. "Oh John. John...I can't. I can't give this up, I just can't!"

"You won't have to, baby, I can't give it up either. Fuck."

She kissed him again, squirming on top of him. "Oh John. You won't dream at all tonight. Just sleep. Soundly."

"Promise?" he asked, caressing her back. Already drifting into a blissful slumber. "We could go again, baby. Give me five...ten...eleven..."

She smiled at his sleepy voice. His replete tone. "Later, sweetie. Go to sleep. Oh John," she purred into his ear, kissing him. Down his throat again.

"Oh Moira, Moira Sheppard," he said lovingly. "My Moira."

"My John," she whispered, staring at the darkness. Wide awake. Secure. Protected and loved. She sighed. Kissed him again. "John?" She nudged him. "John? Jo-hn," she sang into his ear. "Were you serious about eleven, sweetie?"

"Wha...huh...you...ssh...eleven?" he muttered, half asleep already. Relaxed. Sated. Secure with Moira on him, with him.

"It was too quick, John. Intense and satisfying but too quick. You...John?" He was asleep, out like a light. She smiled. Couldn't wait to tease him in the morning. She snuggled on him, thinking. Thinking of all the men, the guilt they felt, mirrors to John's own guilt. She plotted, planned. Knew she had to assuage all of it or they would be mired in it. Especially John. She fell asleep at last, secure in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Conditioned Association4

Moira woke. Sunlight was flooding the room, bathing everything in a shimmer of gold and orange. She sat, yawned. John was sprawled next to her. Snoring loudly. "John! John!" She shoved. He snorted, rolled onto his side. Still asleep. She sighed fondly. Ran her hand up his bare arm. Cuddled against his back. "Jo-hn," she teased into his ear. Licked down his throat. She slid her hand across his waist, his hip. Down to stroke his cock but he muttered. Rolled onto his stomach. Moira frowned, freed her hand. "Spoilsport." She kissed his cheek. Reluctantly got out of the bed.

She showered. Combed her long hair. Considered carefully what to wear. Studying her body in the mirror as she dressed. Pausing to touch her abdomen. The marks on her abdomen almost gone. She stared, feeling a chill at how close she had come to losing the baby. To death. At the hands of a Wraith queen. She frowned, fingering the bruise. The cut across her cheek, an ugly red scratch. She tried to conceal it, cover it with make-up but it still was visible. Glaring against her skin. A visible reminder of the attack.

She smoothed down the royal blue V-neck shirt she wore. Adjusted the bra under it. Smirked. Resolved to get the men's attention and have them do her bidding one way or another. She turned, checking the fit of the khaki pants. Knew John would certainly notice that if no one else did.

She entered the physics lab. Walked over to Rodney. He was bent over another device, carefully setting tiny crystals into an alignment. Tiny beeps sounded. He pulled them out, tried again, muttering under his breath. "Rodney, I need you to–"

"What, what? Whatever it is it can wait! I can't be in five places at once!" he snapped, frustrated. "I just managed to figure out the calibration for this complicated son of a...oh! Moira!" He saw her. Chastened he swallowed. Unsettled. "Sorry! I was..." His gaze darted up and down her. Back to her face again.

"I can see you are busy, Rodney, but I need your help. How about in one hour?" she suggested, tone mild. Glancing down at the device, then back to him.

"Uh, sure. Of course, Moira, I, um, er, I am sorry!" he stammered, trying not to stare at the gash on her cheek. The bruise on her lip. The swells of her breasts peeking out of the shirt. "It was my fault. I should have realized that Wraith queen was here in the city! The second she came through the 'Gate! Well, at least when the Impulse Detector went off like a Christmas tree! I was going to–"

"No, Rodney, it wasn't your fault. You call it the Impulse Detector?"

"Yes. John wanted to call it a Wraith Detector, but that's not what it does at all! It blocks any subversive or subsonic energy pulses affecting the visual centers of the frontal lobe."

"That's brilliant, Rodney! If not for that device you reassembled we would never had seen through the Wraith's deception! Actually, that's what I wanted your help on...the subsonic frequency ranges of the Wraith. But not here. Someplace quiet. What about that disused room on the northwest pier?"

"Oh. The Ambassadorial Suite? It's got chairs and a table. It was supposed to be for visiting allies and for brokering treaties. Apart from our main hub, so to speak."

"It sounds perfect. Will you meet me there in an hour?" she asked sweetly.

"Um..um..okay. Moira. One hour," he fumbled, staring down at the device suddenly. Aware his gaze had been locked upon her breasts again.

She smiled. "Thank you, Rodney."

* * *

Moira found Carson in the med lab. He was hunched over a computer, going over the scans of the Wraith queen. Serious expression on his face. "Carson, I need your help."

He turned, smiled. "Of course, Moira. Anything. How do you feel?" He neared, eying the bruise, the cut on her cheek. Frowning at the injuries. Assessing.

"I'm fine, Carson. No need to fuss."

He became somber. Catching her hand in his. "I feel like such a prat, love! No, worse than that! I swear I thought that it was dead! There were no life signs, none, not even in the hibernation zones we added to the scanners! I never should have discounted your observations, your valid concerns! It's my fault, what happened to you! What could have happened to you! Och, Moira, if anything had happened to you or to wee Sheppard I could never live with myself and I–"

"No, Carson, it's not your fault!" she insisted, heading off his emotional outburst. "We never knew the full extent of a queen's powers. What we've gathered now could be, no, will be invaluable in the future. I need your help with the genetic codes. The Iratus bug DNA and the Wraith. The disparity between the sexes. But not here. A quieter place. What about the Ambassadorial Suite?" He stared blankly. "It's the disused room by the northwest pier," she clarified.

"Oh! You mean the VIP Lounge. At least that's what we called it. To receive guests of a dubious nature until we knew more about them, and they knew less about us. When?"

"An hour, please. Is that all right?"

"Yes, love. I'll be there. Are you sure you feel okay? Does that cut bother you?" He was staring at it again. At the bruise on her mouth. Concerned. Guilty.

"I'm fine, Carson, really. Thank you. An hour," she smiled, squeezed his hand reassuringly.

* * *

Moira found Ronon sparring with a group of marines. She stood, watching him defeat them all. Moving swift, sure. Body strong, in motion, but not as graceful as John moved. More brute force than calculated cunning. She waited until they had finished. "Ronon?"

The Satedan turned, smiled. Moved to her. "Moira, I...I'm sorry..." His smile faded as his gaze encompassed her. The bruise. The cut. The curves of her body in the clinging fabric of her clothes. "I failed you. I left you in harm's way. I'm so sorry...I...you could have been...the baby...you...it's my fault you are hurt now." He was staring at the floor. Miserable.

"No, Ronon." She touched his arm, luring his gaze back to hers. "It is not your fault and I am fine. So is the baby," she whispered. "You risked your life to save me. You bought me time to get to safety. How can I thank you for that? For risking your life like that? I need your help, actually," she continued, before he could answer, protest. "I have some questions about Wraith queens and only you can answer them. But not here. A quieter place. In an hour. The Ambassadorial Suite."

Ronon stared blankly. "Where?"

"The VIP Lounge?" He was silent. "The room off the northwest pier," she clarified.

"Oh. You mean the Meet and Greet. At least that's what we called it. For off-world dignitaries who would be scrutinized without realizing it. Yes. I will meet you there. One hour."

"Thank you."

* * *

Moira found Evan in the armory. Firing a P90 at a target already riddled with holes. She waited as he emptied bullets into it, venting his anger, his guilt, his sorrow. She walked over as he replaced the clip, expression stern. "Evan? I need to talk to you. Do you have a moment?"

He turned, set the gun down as he stared at her. Gaze darting from her cut, her bruise, up and down her body. Back to her face. "Moira, of course! Oh Moira, God, I am so sorry! It's my fault you were in danger! I should have realized it wasn't Aaron who came through the 'Gate with us! I brought the damn thing right to you, Moira! Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course! Evan, it's not your fault!" She hugged him. "I am so sorry about Aaron! But you mustn't blame yourself!" She freed him.

"But you...it was with you the whole...if you had been..." he stammered, gaze locked on the cut marring her cheek. Then glancing down at her abdomen.

"I'm fine, Evan. It's not your fault. Your quick thinking saved me. You remembered the back way to the lab to circumvent the lock down. You found the quickest way to me. Thank you. I need to talk to you about Aaron, and about those back ways in the city. Can you meet me in an hour? But not here, obviously. A quiet place. The Ambassadorial Suite."

Evan met her gaze. "Where?"

"The VIP Lounge."

"Where?" he repeated.

"The Meet and Greet?" She sighed at his puzzled mien. "The room off the northwest pier."

"Oh! You mean the Hold 'Em Fold 'Em room. Got it. At least that's what we called it. For detaining allies of an indeterminate nature. To decide whether to accept or deny them. Hold them or fold them," he explained. "An hour. I'll be there, Moira. I am so sorry, I never–"

"No." She smiled. Kissed his cheek. "It wasn't your fault. I am so sorry about Aaron. Thank you for meeting me. An hour." She left.

* * *

Moira hesitated outside the conference room. She pulled down her shirt for a more generous view of her chest. She wondered how to approach her husband. How to distract him from guessing her intentions. Knew he would be inquisitive, difficult. She stared. He sat at the table, clean-shaven. Chin in his hand as he stared a computer screen. Tousled hair. A red sweatshirt and black jeans adorned him. She wondered at the absence of the usual BDUs. She entered the room. Moved to him. "John?"

He looked up at her, smiled. Gazed upon her loose hair. The royal blue V-neck shirt. The khaki pants. The shirt dipping low. The swells of her breasts filling the fabric, spilling out of it. "Moy?"

She sat on the table, scooting his computer aside. Wiggled her rear and leaned forward slightly. "Out of uniform, colonel?"

"Yeah. Figured I needed a day off. I don't deserve it but I'm taking it anyway." His gaze rested on her face. On the bruise. The cut. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. John, don't you talk like that," she admonished, touching his hand.

His gaze lowered to the teasing view of her breasts. "I...I'm trying to word this report. About this whole damn debacle. About how I almost got you and John junior killed."

"No, John. About how you got back here in time. How you followed your own protocols to the letter. How you saved me and John junior." She leaned over to kiss him. Sat back. "John, I need your help, when you are done here."

"You can have my help now, Moira. What do you need?"

"In an hour. I need a temporary lab since the Wraith lab isn't up to specs yet. I was thinking of that disused room. The Ambassadorial Suite."

"The what?"

"The VIP Lounge."

"Never heard of it."

"The Meet and Greet."

"Still cold."

"The Hold 'Em and Fold 'Em room?"

"We have a gambling hall now?"

"No!" She sighed. "The room off the northwest pier!"

"Oh! The Dumping Ground. Why didn't you say so, Moira? At least that's why I called it. Where we stash persons of interest, of questionable background until I get intel. There? Okay. I'll go now to–"

"No, not now. I need to check what equipment I will need. Then I will need your help to move it to the–"

"Equipment? I'll get some marines to get whatever you want, Moira. I'll go now to–"

"No. I'm not sure there's a proper power source. Will you meet me there in an hour?"

"We can go now, I can set the–" he offered.

"No! I need to check what I need first, okay? Geez! Can't you just meet me there in an hour, colonel?" She stood. Folded her arms under her breasts, pushing and lifting them up, together. "Besides, major, you owe me."

He was staring at her chest. It took a moment for her words to register. "Major?"

"Yes. After leaving me unsatisfied last night it's the least you can do." She turned, headed for the door. Deliberately swaying her hips, swinging her rear. "Meet me there in one hour, major."

"Whoa, whoa, there, baby!" John jumped out of his chair, broken from the distraction of her rear. He rushed ahead of her to block her exit. "What do you mean, unsatisfied? Moira? As I recall," he drawled with a smile, "we were both very, very satisfied last night."

"True," she admitted, touching his chest.

"John Sheppard has never, never left a woman unsatisfied. Never."

"Well, sweetie, this woman was. Is." She sighed. Fingers playing along his chest. "It was so quick, John. We came too quickly," she explained coyly, tilting her head.

"Well, Moy, I was rather tired, you know. I–"

"Yes, I know, sweetie, from saving my pert little ass," she agreed, causing him to smile. She stepped closer. "And you slept like a log. This morning you nearly snored the roof onto our heads! When I tried to awaken you you just rolled over like a bear. I couldn't even rouse your ordnance, John." She pouted.

He slid his arms around her. Drew her against him. Kissed her. "I find that hard to believe, baby. You could get a dead guy's cock to–"

"It wasn't hard at all, sweetie," she teased, emphasizing the word, "not hard at all. Not even close to becoming hard."

"Hmm...I see. Why don't we meet now, in the sex room. I think you need a triple, baby, or at least a generous helping of Sheppard's delight."

She smiled. "No, sweetie. Not the love nest. Not frequency or multiples. Duration."

"Ah. Duration. I see, baby." He licked his lips. "I'm fully rested now so that shouldn't be a problem. Ah...I see your game plan, baby. There's a nice long table in that room. It's secluded too. Perfect for us to have exuberant sex."

"No, John. I want to set the lab equipment there," she refuted. Realizing she had distracted him too much in the opposite direction.

"Oh, you will be setting equipment, baby, don't you worry." He kissed her. "Let's go now, sweetheart. I want you. I want you satisfied."

She pushed free. "No, John! I'm serious. Meet me there in one hour, to set the lab."

"Okay, sweetheart. Don't you worry. I'll be setting that lab so long, so hard, so deep you will be your own power source. In an hour. Repeatedly." He winked.

She laughed. "John! I'm serious! No sex! Not yet! You–"

He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. "My Moira will be always, always be satisfied." He kissed down her throat, moving the shirt off her shoulder. Paused. Saw the red bra strap. "Wow. I haven't seen this, baby...is that red satin?"

She stepped back, pulling the shirt back onto her shoulder. "Yes, but you won't see it unless you help me. One hour, John. To set the lab. Not for sex." She kissed him. "Finish your report." She quickly left to prepare. Considered her next moves, her next words.


	5. Chapter 5

Conditioned Association5

John sauntered towards the northwest pier. Anticipation made him smile. Not for a moment had he bought her story of a lab set-up. He enjoyed the seductive game. But was bothered by her complaint of not being satisfied. Vowing to himself to make certain she was. As often as it took. He held a single red rose, planning to use it in his own seductions. To run it over her body to tease, to titillate. He wondered if her panties matched the red satin bra she was wearing. He wondered how skimpy it was. Loved how deeply the V-neck had dipped to give him a generous view of her breasts. Loved how the khaki pants hugged her rear so snugly.

He knew she was trying to distract him from his blame, his guilt. Even though she didn't blame him he blamed himself. For his negligence. His mistakes. How close he had come to losing her. To losing the baby. The bruise on her mouth, the cut on her cheek glaring reminders of his stupidity, his culpability. He felt an anger towards his friends, himself. If he could not even protect her in the city where could he keep her safe, secure? He frowned, pushing all of it aside. He needed to focus on Moira. On the sex she wanted. That he wanted. On the foreplay.

He entered the room, fully expecting to have sex with Moira. He froze. Instead he found a group of men standing round, all staring at each other with puzzled expressions. Suspicious. Amused. Quickly he flung the rose behind him onto the floor. Walked to them. Disappointed.

"John! What the hell is going on?" Rodney demanded.

"Did Moira ask you meet her here too?" Carson asked.

"Oh oh. I suspect a plot to get us together," John realized with a frown.

"Oh no! Not another sing-along," Evan complained. "Sir."

"This has happened before?" Ronon asked.

"Oh yes...one of Moira's lovely interventions," Carson informed with a smile.

"So where's the beer?" Rodney asked. "And the food?" He looked round the empty room.

John shrugged. "Hey, I'm as much in the dark as the rest of you."

"Sorry I'm late!" Moira entered the room, wheeling in a covered table. She ignored their stares. She lifted the cover as the men gathered round. The table was full of food. Cocktail weiners, crackers. Cheese and tiny sandwiches. Chips. Bottles and bottles of beer. She stepped back. "Each of you take a beer, please. Then you can eat. Wait! Raise your bottles, please," she suggested. They eyed her, exchanged glances. Did as she asked.

John stepped next to her. "Moira?"

"First, let's drink to Aaron Josephes," she solemnly stated. "A fine man. A fine soldier. Who fell in the line of duty. Who should be remembered for his courage, his humor, his loyalty. To Aaron."

"To Aaron," they chorused. Drank.

"Is this an Irish wake?" Rodney asked.

"No. We will mourn Aaron properly. This, this is something else. We need to confront the other issue now. Get some food, all of you. More beer. Relax. Then we will have a nice chat. No singing, I promise. Please." She stepped away from the table, moved to sit in a chair. Waited, debating what to say, how to approach each one.

The men exchanged glances. Shrugs. "You heard Doctor Sheppard. Let's eat. And drink," John decided to play along. As curious as the rest. Suspicious. They filled their plates, quietly talking as they wondered what the issue was. Moira watched them. Saw their weariness. Guilt hanging on them like shadows. The several quick glances back at her. Their quiet voices, rising and falling in speculation. Curiosity.

John turned. Grabbed a chair and sat next to her. "I saw you, baby. Saw you enjoying my fine, fine ass," he teased quietly.

She smirked. "Yes, sweetie...I do enjoy it. Especially in tight, tight jeans."

He smiled. "Good. Are you going to eat?"

"Later."

"What are you up to, Moira?" he asked. "I was fully expecting to deploy for at least an hour, or two, baby. Now I'm stuck with a partial hard-on and no where to–"

"Ssh, John!" she scolded.

He smirked. Scooted his chair closer to hers. "It's true, baby. You. Me. On that table. Long, long hours of uninterrupted coitus."

"Shut up, John!" she whispered. Elbowed him.

He leaned close, undeterred. "So...the red satin bra. Solid red?" he asked into her ear.

"No," she answered, humoring him. Flirting with him. She sniffed. "Cologne?"

"I thought we were going to have sex, baby. Matching panties?"

"Yes."

"I'm wearing the red boxers, baby. Just for you. I was thinking you could pull them down with your teeth and your tongue."

She snorted. "John! Shut up!" She blushed as the men glanced at her. She elbowed him again. "Behave, colonel. Oops, major."

He smirked. "So...the red satin panties," he said slowly, savoring each word. "Wet?"

"John! Cut it out!"

"They will be, Moira. They will be," he assured, brushed his lips across hers. Sat back. "So...naughty, naughty Moira wants me. Wants me to fuck her to oblivion?"

"Yes, John, now hush!"

"Wet now?"

She sighed. Trying not to laugh. "Hard now?"

"Harder now, after that," he teased, but stopped as the men joined them. Gathering chairs to form a semi-circle. Eating and drinking. Moira waited. Snatched some chips off of John's plate. Earning a playful scowl from him. She smiled.

"Want a sip?" he asked, offering the beer.

"No thanks." She shifted in her chair, glanced at John who knowingly smiled. Eyes roving over her body. She turned away from him, crossing her legs. "Rodney, tell us about the Impulse Blocker."

"You mean the Wraith Detector," John corrected, sipping his beer.

"Specifically," she continued, ignoring him, "it's incredible subsonic capabilities. Could you, for instance, make more of them?"

Rodney swallowed. Drank some beer. "Maybe. The schematics are pretty basic, but the equations for the alternating wave patterns, that's the tricky part. You know, Moira, if we could equip teams with these things we could virtually render the Wraith's psychic powers null and void! The practical applications are staggering."

"Then it's a good thing you were able to assemble it and get it working, Rodney," she enthused. "Could you set it near the 'Gate? In the 'Gate room maybe?"

"Sure! I mean, it would require some modifications, of course, the power structure and the alignment to our own systems. To..." he snapped his fingers, becoming animated, " a low-level output that would be harmless to us, to anyone but able to block any waves affecting the brain, the neurons, the visual centers of perception! In fact if I could widen the parameters even further I could effectively defend the entire city from such incursions!" He smiled.

Moira smiled, nodded. "Excellent thinking, Rodney!" She turned slightly. "Carson, could such a device detect the deep hibernation cycles?"

Carson swallowed his beer, thinking. "Aye, maybe. Yes, Moira, at a precognitive level there would still be minor brain activity. To sustain a bare minimum of life, to create the illusion of death..." He nodded. "Of course! Moira, their level of hibernation isn't compatible to human systems but to the Iratus bug! Maybe that explains the additional Iratus bug DNA in the queen, the females! A different chemistry, a whole genetic evolutionary jump!"

"Can you isolate it? Alter it in some way?"

"Possibly...let me work on it. If we can infiltrate that state of being, state of mind we won't be vulnerable again. I can create counter measures against the Iratus bug DNA from the enzyme itself, the additional concentrations of proteins!" He smiled.

Moira smiled. "You can do it, Carson." She turned slightly. "Ronon, in your experience are the Wraith queens the most powerful?"

"Yes," Ronon answered, setting down his empty plate, his beer. "Yes. The females wield the most power, but the queens...I never had much contact with them, but yes. They control the hive. Are seldom out of it, actually, as far as I know."

"Interesting. Yet this particular queen was. You say that is unusual. They would send the males to do their dirty work?"

"Yes, Moira. I think that's what threw me. The sight of a queen out of her hive. Alone. As if she had been displaced. Or replaced. Rivalry is ripe between queens, between hives. With so many awakening and the limited food sources. Even the scarcity of queens."

"If you could draw up a basic outline of their society that would be helpful. Queen, warrior, scientist, drones, but mainly the females. Keepers. The queen...whatever else you may have encountered."

"I'll try, Moira. If we can understand their society we can understand their weaknesses." He smiled. "And keep this from happening again."

"Thank you, Ronon. Your expertise is invaluable." She turned the other way, crossing her legs again. "Evan, does the city have a lot of back ways and short cuts unaffected by the lock down?"

"Yes, Moira. Well, as far as I have discovered. Each leads to and from a lab. Yours, as you know, leads to the Jumper bay."

An escape route. A safe passage outside the lock down," she surmised. "Where else?"

"Physics lab. Leads to the cafeteria."

"Why am I not surprised?" Carson quipped. The men laughed.

"Really?" Rodney asked. "You will have to show me!"

"Med lab to the southwest pier. The docking pad for the Daedalus," Evan continued, thinking. "Botany leads to the underwater bay. Each accessible even in the event of a lock down."

"Give the similarity of the city's design, each section, each tower would have these back-up exits all over? And are they secure?"

"Presumably they would exit all over. The Ancients design was pretty uniform. Simple, really. Repetitive. So I would say yes. These back ways are a failsafe, in case of a lock down. Get the scientists to safety. As for security we could easily make them so. Construct key pads and pass codes for each section of stairs." He smiled.

"Good thinking, Evan. We want to keep those back ways accessible but need to avoid enemy ingress," Moira stated.

"I will check the other sectors against the schematics. Draw up a basic plan. We can compare it to the city grids Rodney has."

"Does that include unexplored areas?" Rodney asked. "There's still large sections of the city we haven't even fully explored yet."

"Probably," Evan shrugged.

"Why would the Ancients be so careless? I mean, back doors? Anyone could access them," Ronon reasoned, shaking his head.

"For all their cleverness they seem to be full of hubris," Carson observed.

Moira nodded. "True. But look that we've done. We raised the city. Held it secure. Held the Wraith at bay. Pretty much by ourselves." She turned to John. "Right, John?"

"Yes." He sipped his beer. Watching her. Listening. Admiring. Seeing exactly what she was doing. Turning their guilt into positive action. Their failures into proactive reasoning. Projects. Allaying their blame into action. In effect easing them out of feeling responsible for what had happened. What had almost happened. He wondered how she would work her magic on him. Decided to be stubborn.

Moira inwardly sighed. Knew John would be the most difficult. Had the most guilt. Bore the heaviest responsibility. Was smart enough to see what she was doing. To not fall for it. Not easily. "These advances we've made...you don't think they will help us?" she asked, attacking from a different angle.

"No. I mean, they will. Yes."

"I see. So we're no better than the Ancients. Or worse," she prodded.

"I didn't say that. I–"

"So we should just turn tail and run. Give up like they did," she continued, gaze locked with his. "Leave the galaxy, these people, this city to its fate." She knew he'd never accept that.

"They didn't run or give up, Moira. They ascended," Carson corrected.

"Which is the same thing!" John declared, suddenly angry. "Fuck the Ancients! Look at the hornet nest they left behind them! What a joke! A city that is automated to turn on its own residents! Unless you happen to have that fucking ATA gene, that is. It's more trouble than it's worth! It's elitist, Rodney, you were right. What about the people who don't have it? Who didn't? Just let them suffer, let them die? The Ancients didn't give a shit. But we do. And then the Wraith. I know what your theory is, Moira," he pointed at her for a moment. "And I agree. The Ancients created the damn things in the first place! Then couldn't defeat them. So they up and left. Screw the rest of the galaxy! They just up and left. Cowards. Fucking cowards. At least we fight them. Sure we make mistakes, we screw up, and we lose people. But we save people too. Take the fight to them. Never back down. So yeah, we are better, we are...oh shit." John found himself standing, waving his beer bottle around. Realized he had fallen like all the rest to Moira's subtle manipulations. He scowled, sat. Met her gaze. "How the hell did you do that?" he muttered.

"Here, here!" Evan agreed. "We kick Wraith butt!" The men cheered, clanking bottles. Laughing jovially. Relaxed. Relieved.

"I think I'll get something to eat," she said. Smiled at John and moved to the table.


	6. Chapter 6

Conditioned Association6

Moira filled a plate. Stood eating, listening at the spoke quietly behind her. Laughter and enthusiasm in their voices. She smiled. Relaxing. She started, feeling John suddenly behind her. Standing close, very close.

"So...baby...mission accomplished?" he quietly inquired in her ear.

"You tell me, sweetie."

"I'd say affirmative. Very clever. Very sweet. Very...very beautiful. You are like a tonic to failure. To guilt. You played them expertly. No, not played. Helped. They didn't even know they needed it, or wanted it. So...how?"

"How? I'll tell you a secret, colonel, er, major. It's easy enough." She smiled. Licked her lips. "To get them here, that was easy. Between the cut on my cheek and the girls, well..."

"Ah. I concur with that. And that pert little ass. The rest?"

"Conditioned association."

"Come again?"

"Conditioned association, John. The learning process that brings together two ordinary independent factors that lead to a pleasant outcome. This, for instance. When we get together like this, with food, beer, friendship there are pleasant associations and are expected. I just took what they had contributed and turned it, tweaked it to a positive, which was reinforced by this conditioned association of these particular gatherings."

"Ah. You know it gets me all hot when you talk sciency," he teased, his arms sliding around her.

He pressed his body to hers.

Moira nearly dropped the plate. Set it down. "John? What about you?"

He kissed her throat, hands gliding to cup her breasts. "Me? Even me, for awhile, my Moira. But you know what works best with me. Do you still want me?"

"Yes, John, I–"

"Want me to fuck you exquisitely, slowly, bring you to a slow, long, endless set of climaxes, one more vibrant than the next? Possess you utterly, Moira, every sweet inch of you?" he asked, voice low, husky. Breath tickling her ear, her neck.

"Oh God yes, I mean yes, I, John!" She found herself squirming against him, his hand sliding down between her legs to caress boldly. Mouth on her throat, nibbling along the skin to her earlobe. She scooted free, blushing, whirled. Looked past him. They were alone. "Where–"

"My own manipulations, baby." He smiled. Pulled her into a lengthy kiss. "Say it, Moira. Say you want it."

She kissed him, hands running up his chest. "Oh John, oh John..."

"Say it, baby," he insisted. Squeezing her rear now.

"Oh John! I want you. Want you to fuck me exquisitely, slowly..."

He kissed her passionately, moving her onto the table. "Here? Or in the sex room?"

"Love nest? No. Our room. Bed. The bed," she tried to articulate but moaned as he ran his mouth down to her breasts. Fingers sliding into the shirt, the bra to cup, to clasp. To fondle the hardening nipple.

He kissed her again. "Fuck...I may not make it that far, Moy. So hard now." He pulled her shirt down, down, eyed the red satin bra. It had delicate violet flowers scattered over it. "Pretty."

She ran her hand down his pants. "Oh major, you are getting some serious ordnance there. So big, so hard...but can you deploy it successfully this time?" she teased.

"Let's go. Or I'll end up taking you on the floor." He grabbed her hand, pulled her upright. Off the table. Led her from the room.

"Wait!" Moira was adjusting her shirt, dislodged by his wayward fingers. His mouth. She leaned over, snatched the rose from the floor. Smiled. Eyed him lovingly. "Oh John," she sighed, gushing.

He smirked. "Yes, I will need that. All over, Moy, all over. Let's go!"

Moira laughed at his impatience. His awkward walk. She scooted ahead of him, tugging his hand. Swaying her hips as she led him to their room. She pulled him into the room, closed the door. "Well, major, you do seem to require quite an ordnance check!" She squealed the last word as he grabbed her. Pushed her gently against the door and kissed her. Shoving his body to hers. "John!" she laughed, pushing.

He laughed, thrusting against her. Erection all to obvious, poking at her. Demanding entrance. Release. "How do you want me, baby?" he asked gruffly.

She ran her mouth over his jaw, his throat. Tasting. Teasing. "Oh John...John...I want you. I want you so bad, so bad, sweetie...bed."

"Bed." He pulled her to it. Smiled. "Sweet and slow? Yes. Duration."

She smiled. "Yes. Duration. That is, if you can keep it up that long, major."

He grinned. "Give me an hour, baby, and I'll be a general. Hold on tight, Moy. Real, real tight."

* * *

John rolled onto his back, stretching contentedly. Pleasantly drained. Replete with sexual pleasure, passion. His arm slid round Moira as she rolled onto her side, snuggling against him. Half on him, head on his bare chest. He smiled smugly, happily. Stroked her bare arm, her wild hair spilling all around them. "So...satisfied?" he teased, voice still low, husky. Still catching his breath after the slow seductions. The teasing motions. Taking his time in the exquisite foreplay. He glanced to see the rose at the end of the bed. Recalled running it over her naked body. Teasing, arousing.

"Yes. Oh yes, John," she whispered happily. Dreamily. She smiled, snuggling. Pleasure still enfolding her head to toes. Made all the more intense by the prolonged foreplay. His hands caressing against the bra, the panties. Then his mouth. Teasing her nipples through the satin bra. Teasing her intimately through the satin panties until she wanted to rip them off herself. Intense, nearly excruciating arousal as he slowly, slowly seduced her. Brought her to passionate need.

"Good. That's what I was aiming for, baby." He recalled the kinky elements. Removing her bra, her panties with his teeth. Gently wrapping the bra around her wrists and pinning them up above her head. Kissing her mouth, tongue gliding, careful of the bruise. Nibbling her ear and biting gently to make her squeal, squirm. Making her arch as tasted each breast, sucking, pulling, nibbling. Down to her waist. Down to her thighs. Going down on her with such ruthless precision her voice escalated wildly into helpless, passionate sounds that got him off.

"Oh John...John...sweetie..." she purred softly, caressing his chest tiredly. Drained by the incredible sex. He had entered her slowly, slowly. So hard, so big. His mouth on hers, tongue in perfect time to his cock as he plied her both ways. Taking his time. Feeling every inch of her, every inch of him. So deep now, playing with her hair. She had sucked on his finger, biting as he nuzzled her earlobe, her throat. A steady, delicious momentum of sex building, building, sustaining his erection as she writhed under him. The bed rocking, the headboard slamming. He had untied her wrists before she had gotten hurt. Before they had really gotten going.

"Fuck," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. His hand slid down her back, debating whether or not to take her again. He smiled, recalling the rush to climax. Coming in her so hard, so fast. She had clenched him tightly, slick and hot but he had kept thrusting, thrusting. Not stopping as he was caught in the pleasurable momentum, the escalation. Their moans and cries entwining as surely as their bodies. As loudly as the rocking bed and the slamming headboard.

Moira slid on top of him, kissing his chest. Moving up to kiss his lips, to nibble, to tease. Her body rubbing along his, skin to skin. Sweaty and sticky and warm, so warm. Her softness to his hardness. She smiled, caressing his hair. "Oh John...John...can we spend the rest of the day here? In bed?" she asked. Lost herself in his brilliant green eyes, warm with love, with passion. A fierce protectiveness that allured her. Comforted her.

He smiled. Gently squeezed her rear. "Stay here the rest of the day? In bed? Fucking? I'd like nothing better, Moy. What about John junior? He might need a rest."

She kissed him. "No, he's fine. Probably used to all this exuberance by now, sweetie. Oh John..." she marveled.

"Wow," he commented, staring at her expression. Brown eyes full of love, passion. Infatuation and satisfaction. She shifted on him a little, legs spreading a little to accommodate his resting cock. "Baby..." He licked his lips. Ran his finger along her bruise, the cut. Brows furrowing for a moment in concern. "That good?"

She kissed him. Circled his ear. "Even better, sweetie," she teased. "John, will you marry me?"

He gently laughed. "Yes, Moira, I will. Repeatedly." He drew her mouth to his. Soft kisses, over and over until he rolled them. She was beneath him. "Again, sweetheart?"

"Hmm...maybe, colonel..."

"Colonel?" He raised a brow. "I should at least be a general, baby, after that. Hmm..this way? No. Sheppard's delight." He kissed her. Rolled off her and sat. Eyed the chair, the table.

Moira ran her hand up his bare back. "If you want, sweetie. We could always do it in the–"

"Colonel Sheppard, copy? Please respond," came a voice over the PA.

"Shit," John complained. "Do it in the what?" he asked, rolling onto his side. Leaning over to grab his earpiece. "Moy? Do it in the what?"

"Answer your page," she retorted, fingers running up and down his back.

"This is Sheppard," he said gruffly, adjusting the earpiece. "Report." Moira scooted closer. Kissed his shoulder. The back of his neck. He smiled as her fingers slid down, down to his rear. "Careful, baby," he warned. "Copy? Oh fuck..." he inadvertently muttered as her fingers wandered across his thigh. Between his legs. Tickling, arousing as she gently bit his shoulder.

"Sir? Colonel Sheppard, the updated status reports of the city has just come through. The revamped security codes and grids need your authorization."

John groaned. "Huh...oh...okay...yeah, just a sec." He switched off the earpiece. "Moira! What the fuck are you oh fuck, fuck...." He rolled onto his back as she slid down his body. Nails running up and down his stiffening cock as she nibbled along his pelvis.

She met his gaze, smiled slyly. "Do you want me to stop, sweetie? Seems a shame to waste this fine, fine ordnance." She licked her lips slowly. "I still have the caramel."

"Oh fuck, no, don't stop...don't..." He held up his hand. Tapped the earpiece. "Sorry about that, Chuck. I had a, um, a technical glitch." He gave her a look as she snorted laughter. "I'll be there in...let's see..."

"Twenty," she whispered, giggled against his hip. "Maybe thirty if there's a glitch."

He grinned. "Make it thirty. Sheppard out!" He tapped the earpiece. Removed it and tossed it onto the table. "Fuck! All right, baby, proceed. Double time!"

"Double?" she asked, pretending to be shocked. She slid from the bed. "In that case, colonel, I had better get extra caramel. And those manacles. Oh! Didn't you want Sheppard's delight, sweetie?" She moved to the table. Cleared it. Turned to face him. Hoisted herself onto it and laid back, sprawling wantonly. Invitingly. "Oh John...let's skip to part two, okay?"

John was staring. He practically fell as he leapt from the bed to join her.

* * *

Moira caught her breath. Shoved her wild hair aside as she watched John crossed the room. Grabbed his shorts and pulled them on quickly. "Damn, John..."

He laughed. "Fuck yes, baby. Fast and furious, huh? Still satisfied, Moy?"

"Yes, thank you! You proved yourself, so stand down!" Flustered she moved to the bed. Grabbed her bra and put it on, then her shirt.

"I want to be certain, baby. Moira, you are okay, right? I mean, that was a little rough. John junior?" he asked, glancing past her to view the table. The empty table. Everything had been knocked off it by their energetic, passionate coupling. Flowers were strewn along the floor. A few vases overturned. One chair on its side. A laptop under the table, cursor blinking accusingly.

"Get dressed. I've got to check those protocols and you are coming with me."

"We're fine, John. We can take it."

"Ah, baby..." he groaned as she leaned over to grab her panties off the floor. "Fuck...that pert little ass."

"You already did," she quipped, causing him to laugh. "Shit!" She made a face, fingering the panties. "Ick! They are soaking wet! From me and from you."

"Perfect. I'll take those, please." He held out his hand. Waited.

She met his gaze. "Oh, hilarious, John. No." She moved to the dresser. Secured another pair which she put on, wiggling her rear at him. She turned. He hadn't moved. Still clad only in his red boxers. Waiting. Open hand held out. She laughed. "John, no!" His expression didn't change. She sighed. "Really?"

"Yes, really. My trophy. Now," he ordered sternly. Amusement shining in his eyes. "Unless you want me to make those a new trophy."

"No!" She shook her head. "Here!" She shoved them into his hand. "Pervert."

He laughed. Fingers crushing the fabric. Rubbing. "Ah...wonderful. Deliciously wet and still heavy with that heady sex smell...yum." He laughed at her disgusted expression, her eye roll. He pulled on his jeans, his shirt. Shoved the panties into his pocket. "I suppose you want them back...eventually."

"Yes, colonel, if you don't mind. Oh ick!" she complained to his salacious expression. She pulled on her pants, shoes. Combed her hair as he carelessly ran his fingers through his. She gathered her hair into an efficient ponytail.

"Moy, is that new pair wet yet?"

"Shut up, John!"

He laughed. Moved to her after putting on his socks, his boots. He caught her. Kissed her. "Ah, baby, I wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed with you."

"Me too, sweetie, but duty calls."

"I need a beer. You know," he teased, brows raised, "after a particularly satisfying–"

"Fudge?" she interjected. "Yes. Me too. Don't start that again. John, you're not giddy, are you?"

"Hilarious, Moira. Let's go."

"Why do I need to go? They are your protocols, your codes, your–"

"Desire is to have you with me, so let's go! Move that pert little ass, baby!"


	7. Chapter 7

Conditioned Association7

Moira strolled with John down the hallway. She pulled her hand from his. "John, you don't need me there. I should go check on the bio lab, actually. To see if–"

"No. You stay with me, Moira. That's an order."

"An order, colonel? Why?" She smirked, sidled up next to him. "You're not going to get it up again, are you, sweetie?"

He smiled. "Maybe, you never know. I just want to keep my eyes on that pert little ass of yours. Plus the girls. You know, that pert little ass I just–" he broke off as they entered the control room. He moved to the screen, glanced at Rodney. "I thought we set all this."

"We did," Rodney agreed, "but now the city is setting it. No, don't ask. Just a double check."

"Oh. You like doubles, don't you, Moira?" John teased, glancing at her. Smirked.

She shook her head. "Hilarious, John."

He resumed his study of the screen. "Light it up." He watched the city grids become illuminated. Section by section turning green.

"All secure, John. Just input your codes and we can close the books on this one."

"Good." John typed in his codes. Looked over to see Moira wandering across the room. "Moira! Stay right here. Your twenty is here, with me." He resumed his attention on the screen.

Moira sighed, ignoring him. Staring down at the Stargate. The large room silent. Empty. She briefly touched her abdomen. Wondered how long it would be before she could go through the event horizon again.

"Uh, John...what is that?" Rodney pointed. John looked down. Smirked. He fingered the red satin panties sticking out of his pocket.

"John," she warned, moving back to him.

"Oh? Those?" He shoved them back into his pocket, pretending to think. "Hmm...what are those? I think...I think they are Moria's," he coyly replied. "Aren't they, Moira? Didn't you give them to me for safekeeping? For later, um, deployment?"

"John Sheppard!" she warned, coloring. She put her hands on her hips. "If you don't stop now, colonel, the only deployment you'll be enjoying will be self-deployment."

He smirked. Easing them out of his pocket. "Huh. Does that mean you want them back now?"

"No! No, you keep them!" she quickly advised. Scowled at him.

He grinned, shoved them back into his pocket. "Good. I have need of them, Moira. You can retrieve them later." He yawned suddenly, exaggerating. "I don't know why I am so tired all of a sudden. Moira, are you tired all of a sudden?"

"Knock it off, flyboy!" she warned. "I'm going to check on the lab. You boys have fun."

"What was that all about?" Rodney asked, shaking his head.

John smiled. "That? Oh that. That was just...stuff." He strode after her. Followed her down the hallway. "Hey, Moira!" he called. "Do you know what day it is today?"

"Yes, John. It's turn off your libido day!"

He laughed. "No, I don't think that's it, Moira. Hey, Moira! Look what I found! Are these yours, baby?"

Moira whirled. Stared. John was standing, waving her red panties in the air like a banner. "Damn it, John, quit that!" She hastened to him. He laughed, shoved them back into his pocket.

"Quit? I'm only getting started, baby. I really, really, really enjoyed taking them off you, Moira. So fucking lush I wanted to–"

"John! Behave! You must be giddy! What is up with you?"

"You really want to know what is up?" He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. "Say it."

"Say what? John, quit it! I have work to do!"

"Say it again, Moira. What you want me to do."

"I want you to behave, colonel. Stand down, would you? Now let go so I can check the–"

"Say it." He kissed her, moved her gently against the wall. Stood close. "I will let you go if you say it." He ran his mouth down her throat. Hands sliding to cup her breasts.

Moira caught his hands, gently moved them off her. "John! You cannot possibly want to have–"

"Sex? Fuck, yes. The way you sprawled on that table, baby, laid out for me like dessert, fuck I want that again. Say it. Say it," he half-sang in her ear. Kissed her again. "Say it in my ear."

She sighed. Amused and enchanted. She kissed him. Ran her mouth to his ear. Whispered, "oh John, oh John, I want you. Want you to fuck me. Fuck me exquisitely. Slowly. Fuck me so hard I come screaming your name, over and over." She pushed him back. "Happy now?"

He smiled. "Very. Let's."

"No. I need to check the lab. Keep it in your pants!" She slipped free, walked quickly.

He followed her down the hallway. "Bio lab, huh? That's appropriate. Mating and all."

"Shut up. The Wraith lab." She sighed. "I've got so much work to do, John! I hope the lab is up and running in a few days. I can access most of the data in bio but I really need the Wraith lab for the actual specimens and to follow your protocols and–" She stopped suddenly as he caught her arm, moved in front of her. "What?"

"Let me make sure, Moy." He was suddenly serious. He stepped into the lab. Looked round. Hand snaking down his thigh to reach his holster, his gun. Except he was devoid of both. There was no more blood. No more gore. A scent lingered. Of death. Of guts. "Okay."

She joined him. "What? It's still a mess, though," she commented, looking at the upturned tables. The monitors askew. Vials tipped onto their sides. "The bio lab should suffice for now, I guess." She stopped. Stared at the wall. Recalled falling there, blood flowing from her cut. The queen towering over her. Then on her. Sucker running along her body like a scanner. Discovering her pregnancy. Seeking to remove the embryo.

John touched her shoulder. She nearly jumped, turned to him. He pulled her gently into his arms. "It's all right, Moira. It's over."

"I...I was just remembering." She clung a moment. Secure in his arms. "How did she know? How did she know about the baby?" She pulled back from him, calm now. Serious. "The sucker. It ran over me like a, like a scanner. Sensing my life force...that's it! It must have sensed the baby's. That's the only thing that makes sense, John. Did you keep the parts? Where are they? We need to examine the sucker, the hand. It was elongated, much more so than the males, or even other Wraith, come to think of it, and it could be that–"

"No."

She stared. "What?"

"No. I ordered every last bit destroyed."

"John! We needed it! We needed the body for analysis! Who knows if we will ever have the chance to study a female again! How could you destroy it?"

"I wasn't taking any chances, Moy. Can you blame me?"

"Yes!"

"Yes? Excuse me?"

"We've never had an opportunity like this! And you made damn sure it was dead, didn't you? Twice over, as I recall." She sighed. "We could have learned so much from it!"

"No. It was too big a threat. To you. To John junior. End of story. Come on. You can work in the bio lab. No. You can work in our room." He tried to pull her away but she stubbornly resisted. "Moira!"

"No. You wasted an opportunity to gather valuable intel, colonel!" she flared, angrily facing him. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"What was I thinking? Of you! Of my son!" he retorted, her anger fueling his.

"Really? And don't you think we could be safer if you had left the pieces for us to study? To learn the full extent of the female Wraith anatomy, their powers, their differences to the males which are significant! Significant, John! And more so because of their odd scarcity! Damn it, colonel, we needed those samples! We needed to learn everything we could about–"

"Fuck no! It was too great a threat. I eliminated it. Completely! God knows what that body contained, Moira! Did you ever think of that? What pathogens, what contagions those things might have to be a threat even after death? Now let's go–"

"No." She stepped away from his outstretched arm, his open hand. "I will do what work I can right here! Not be ordered around by some military commander who is blind to the value of the scientific knowledge we could have gained from a–"

John pulled her into his arms, kissing her hard. Deeply, a long, sweeping kiss as he grabbed her rear and squeezed. Cutting off all arguments, all challenges. All fears that were reawakened by being in this room. Moira murmured in protest, pushing against him but he was too strong. Too determined as he shoved his tongue into her mouth. Her body to his. Pressing. Possessing. Dominating.

Moira whimpered, pushed, shoved but her body merely slid along his. Encountering every hard line of him. Every firm angle. Her mouth melting under his. Her body reacting as his hands squeezed and squeezed her rear, fingers gliding lower, under, between her thighs. "John," she breathed as at last he freed her mouth. She was angled backwards, nearly in a dip.

"I want you, Moira," he breathed hotly in her ear. "I want to fuck you. Fuck you exquisitely. Slowly. No. I want to bring you repeatedly, rough and wild and so fucking hard you come screaming my name," he growled. Nibbled down her throat. "Give yourself to me, Moira. Every luscious bit of you is mine. And I intend to take every luscious bit."

"John," she gulped, kissing him. Succumbing to his demands, his desire. She suddenly found herself lifted up onto the counter. His fingers plying between her legs. "John? John!"

He smiled. "First here. Then our bed. My bed, this time, baby. We'll give the headboard a well-deserved rest. Then us."


	8. Chapter 8

Conditioned Association8

Moira led the little boy away, after someone shoved her. She turned, expression full of sorrow. Resignation. "I'm sorry, John. I made a deal to save you. To raise the city." She moved towards the colonel. The little boy with her looking back at him, face pinched with puzzlement. "No!" John cried, but he was shoved to his knees. Held there. Held there by his own marines. He heard a man's voice say, "I'm sorry, John. There is no other way."

John woke, gasping. Sat up, heart pounding. Almost tasting the blood in his mouth. Almost feeling the fingers digging into his shoulders, keeping him down. Almost feeling the hard ground grinding into his knees. He looked around, not recognizing his room for a moment. Not feeling Moira next to him. He scrambled out of the bed, the blankets. Rushed to their room and stopped. Moira was sitting at the table, clad in a pale nightshirt. Bathed in the bluish glow of the laptop as she worked. Muttering softly, some endless chain of Latin words. "Moira?" he croaked.

Moira looked over, stared. "John? I'm sorry, did I wake you?" His form was a dark, tall, lean silhouette in the threshold between their two rooms. But the anguish on his handsome face was all too evident. "Oh no. The nightmare?"

He nodded. Reassuring himself he was awake. That she was real, was there. "Yes. The nightmare."

Moira closed the laptop, moved to him. She took his hand, led him to their bed. Guided him under the blankets, following after him. She sat close, touched his arm. "The future?"

"Yes."

"Exactly the same?"

"Yes. Well, no. More details." He frowned. Rubbed his eyes. He stretched out on his back. Flung his arm over his face. "What the fuck is happening to me, Moy?"

She ran her fingers through his hair. Scooting closer to press her thigh against him. The feel of her body next to his. Warm. Solid. "What were the details, John?"

He sighed. "You. You were leaving me. With John junior. But this time someone pushed you. Was forcing you to the colonel. And I...I was held back, held down by my own marines! And it wasn't Elizabeth. A man, some man said there was no other way. It was so real, Moira! I could feel their grasp on me. Feel the ground under me. Taste the blood in my mouth!"

Moira slid on top of him. Kissed his lips, moving his arm off his face. "John..." She kissed him again, caressing his temple gently. "So I was forced to go. You were forced to stay. What reason could there be for that?"

"None! None at all, Moy!" he stated angrily, meeting her gaze. He touched her arm, her swirling tresses as they fell around them.

"Think, John. Approach it logically," she urged. Kissing him. "What would cause it to happen?"

"Nothing, Moy. A...a threat to the city," he considered, as her mouth moved down his throat. "A dire threat. From the colonel? I can't see that. Maybe, maybe more ATA Wraith? It has to be something to do with the anomaly. Something..."

"A threat to the city, so dire they had no choice but to send me and John junior to the colonel to raise his city. Against your decisions. Which might mean they need that other Atlantis to help them against...something? Someone? As opposed to the previous scenario where the colonel is the instigator." She circled his ear. Nibbled.

He smiled at her attentions. The feel of her body on his. But considered her words carefully. "He's still the instigator, somehow. But you're right. It would have to be a threat to the city."

She kissed his lips slowly. Savoring. She sat, straddled his lap. Gyrating slightly against his naked body. She ran her hands down his chest. Nails scratching his flesh, his chest hair. "So...the real question is why you are having the same exact nightmare three nights running. Has this ever happened before?"

"No. Nothing ever like this," he admitted. Ran his hands up her sides. Her hips to yank up her nightshirt. She lifted, letting him pull the fabric out of the way. His fingers grazed against her skin, caressing naked flesh now. "Moira...I won't allow it to happen."

"John, is there something else bothering you?"

"Ah. You still think that this is a manifestation of some inner turmoil. To the right, please, ah there, baby..." He groaned softly as she shifted to accommodate him.

Moira rocked slowly on him. "Maybe. Is there? You can tell me anything, John. You know that. I love you. All of you."

"Especially what's beneath you right now?" he teased, shifting to position himself directly under her. The lack of any panties exciting. Arousing. He considered. "No. Apart from the crap we just endured. How I almost lost you and the baby to some fucking Wraith queen, no. Nothing besides that little trifle."

"John!" She frowned. "I am serious! And don't you dare blame yourself for that, for any of that! I'm fine. The baby is fine. The city is fine. Are you sure there's nothing else? Nothing at all?" She murmured softly, feeling him react to her motions. She ran her nails lightly down his chest, his waist. "John?"

"What? I'm thinking." He smiled. "I'm thinking how good it will be right now if we had sex, baby. If you ride me hard. Real hard."

"John..." she scolded. Leaned down to kiss him. "Focus."

"I am, baby, believe me. Very–"

She sat again. "Why won't you tell me? It's...it's the baby, isn't it? You are worried about the double gene. Well, so am I, but there's nothing either of us can do about that. We just don't know what it means, if it means anything, but it's not affecting his development or his health. The baby. Naturally you're apprehensive, worried, stressing over it."

"None of the above, baby. Well, sure, the double thing, but since he's okay it's not a concern at the moment. Are you?"

"Well, yes. I mean, of course. You must feel the same! You must! It's a big change for both of us, John!"

"Yes, a big, wonderful change, Moy. Honestly, nothing's bothering me. Enough to produce some nightmare three times running. Faster, please."

She rocked against him, felt his hardness under her. Her answering arousal alluring him as she squirmed. "I don't believe you, John. I don't...oh!"

He smiled at her expression. "Believe it, baby. I need to deploy in that sweet center, so take me." His hands slid up her thighs, parting them wider. Fingers brushing her mound as she squirmed, lifting. She leaned down to kiss him. His hands grabbed her rear, squeezed. "Fuck me, Moira. Ride me hard."

She lifted, straightening. Caught him and eased him inside of her. Moaned as she gyrated on him, up and down, circling at the same time to create waves of friction, of pleasure. "Oh John, John...as ordered, colonel!"

"Oh fuck that's good! Tighter now, tighter...ah...faster now," he enthused, catching her hips to guide her. Support her. He wished she was completely naked.

Moira whimpered softly. Moving faster, arching. Fingers tightening on his thighs. "Oh John! John, John...so fucking sweet!"

He grinned. Sat and caught her, thrusting deeply, harder now as she gasped, startled. "Fuck oh fuck, baby! That is fucking sweet. Don't you dare stop now!"

Moira grabbed his arms before she fell backwards. He pulled her onto him, against him. Kissing her repeatedly as she moved faster, faster. Murmurs trapped in her throat. Groans rising and falling as the climax shuddered. Riding them both now, quick, sharp. She cried out loudly and John groaned, swearing as the release came at last. The bed rocking under them, bouncing wildly with each gyration, each thrust. Moira fell backwards, legs splayed but John followed, still thrusting, deeply now, yanking up her nightshirt to tongue her breasts, to grunt against her skin. Her legs wrapped around him. Fingers digging into his arms, his back. His rear as he prolonged the intimacy until he couldn't hold it any longer.

John fell on her. Kissed her. Slid out of her and rolled. Sat and reclined on his back, catching his breath. Licked his lips. "Fuck," he muttered happily.

Moira lay on the bed, catching her breath. Sweaty. Messy. She closed her legs. Sat and pulled the nightshirt back over her. She scooted next to him but remained seated. "John...damn."

"I know," he agreed smugly. "Baby, I do love multiples. Over and over. And over...fuck. John junior?"

"Fine. Stop asking, would you?" She sighed. "Damn, John...your fucking ordnance...your...sweetie, are you making up these nightmares just so you can fuck me like that?"

He smiled. "No. Those nightmares are real enough, Moy. I fuck you like that to exorcize them. And to give us multiple pleasure."

She scrambled off the bed. Crossed to his room. Returned and threw his pajama pants at him. "Here! Put that thing away!"

He laughed, pulled them on as she got in next to him. She snuggled against him. His arm slid around her. He kissed her. "Ah baby. Hey, should we–"

"No! Shut up!" She traced circles on his chest. "John..."

"Oh oh," he muttered, recognizing her tone.

"Did you have this much sex with your lots some women?"

He frowned. "No."

"No? I mean...you...I mean..."

"I don't care what you mean, baby. No. I only have this much exuberant sex with Moira Sheppard. Go to sleep. Hey, what were you working on? In the middle of the night?"

"The classifications. I couldn't sleep and I haven't had time to work on them." She sighed. "John...will you, um, will you be leaving me soon? To go on missions, I mean?"

"No."

"I mean, not now, of course. But when Weir gets back. You'll be leading missions like you always do, I mean."

"No."

She stared but he had closed his eyes. Was settling comfortably, arms around her. "John?"

"Go to sleep, Moira. You should be getting plenty of rest."

"Between wild bouts of sex, you mean?" she teased.

He smiled. "Yeah. Between wild bouts of sex. Go to sleep."

"John, what did you mean? A week or two later after Weir returns? There's no need for you to stay here, John. The city is secure. I'm secure. The baby is secure. So don't feel you have to stay here. Don't neglect your job for me, John, otherwise the flak will hit, won't it? Like it did over our marriage. So in a week or two, yes, that's what you meant." She snuggled on him. Relaxing. "Plenty of time to figure this out. Your nightmares. My projects. I want to know your theory about those deserted planets, and yes, my theory on Wraith evolution, you had it right, John, but there is more. Much more if I can ever finish the research on it. John?"

"You lost me after sex, baby. Ssh."

She smiled. "Seriously, John. A week or two, right? At the most. That give us enough time to figure out–"

"No. You misunderstand me, Moira." He rolled them so they were on their sides, facing each other. He held her close, eyes still closed. "I'm not going through the 'Gate. I'm not leading my team, any team. In effect, I am not stepping foot away from Atlantis. I'm quitting."


	9. Chapter 9

Conditioned Association9

Moira stared. Startled. She moved free of his arms to sit. To stare at her husband as he reclined next to her in the bed. Eyes closed. Relaxing. She frowned. "I know you didn't mean that. I don't understand. You would never quit! John? John!" She nudged his shoulder.

"You heard. Go to sleep," he said, drifting tiredly.

"John!" She smacked his arm.

"Ow!" His eyes flew open. "What the...Moira! We need to sleep...unless you want to do it against the wall now?"

"Shut up! What the hell do you mean? You quit?"

He smiled. "Like you don't know. Well, let me refresh your memory, baby. I hold you up against a wall and take that pert little ass so fucking hard you will–"

"Not that!" She hit him again.

"Ow! Stop that!"

"Then answer me! Seriously! You have to go through the 'Gate, John! You have to lead your team! It's your job! You can't quit your job!"

"Lower your voice!" He sighed, closing his eyes again. "Go to sleep, baby. Decision's made. You're right. I'm not quitting my job. Just going through the 'Gate. No more." She raised her hand to hit him again but his eyes flew open. He caught her wrist. "Ah, no. Now come here and go to sleep, damn it! Decision's made!"

She sighed. Relenting. Knew if she pushed him he would only become more intransigent, intractable. She reclined, snuggling against him. Stroked his chest. "John...you don't have to do this. Not for me. I'm fine. I'm perfectly safe here, sweetie. You eliminated the threat."

"Are you? Perfectly safe? No. Not unless I am here, Moy. I can see that now."

"See what? John?" She scowled. He had closed his eyes again. Arm around her. "John?"

"You heard. Only me, Moy. I'm the only one. Now go to sleep."

"John...no. It was no one's fault. No one's. You can't blame yourself, or anyone else. Not Rodney. Not Ronon. Not Carson. Not Evan. No one. Not yourself. I am safe here, colonel. Your child is safe. Besides, no doubt you will have one of your men keep an eye on me while you are gone, won't you? One of your marines?"

"No. Don't trust them. Me. Only me, Moy." He pulled her closer, shifting. "Sleep."

She sighed, kissed his lips. "John, please. You don't have to do this. Please. I love you, John. There's no need for you to overreact like this. Honestly, you don't have to–"

"Overreact?" he snapped. Met her gaze angrily. "I almost lost you, Moy! You almost lost the baby! How am I overreacting to that? Well?"

She touched his lips as his anger washed over her. "By neglecting your job, colonel, that's how. You can't–"

"Enough!" He freed her. Rolled onto his other side, away from her. "I can. I have. I will. It's done. Now go to sleep, damn it! No more talking!"

She frowned. "We haven't even started, colonel!" She rolled away from him. Stared at the darkness, fuming. Worrying. Pondering how to change his mind.

* * *

Rodney looked round the Wraith lab, uncomfortable. He stared at the locked door. At the covered tools. Drawers that once held specimens now empty. Monitors flickering with reams of data. He finally met Moira's gaze. "And why are we meeting in here of all places?"

Moira sighed. "Because it is private. Well..." She glanced at the camera in the corner. "Relatively private. I need your help, Rodney. On this."

"So you said, but I don't see how I can help. If John won't listen to you why do you think he will listen to me?"

"Because you are his best friend."

Rodney smiled. "Really? I mean, of course I am, but I still don't see how that–"

"He won't listen to me because he's doing this because of me. For me." She touched his arm. "We both know if John follows through on this it will be the biggest mistake of his life. He wasn't made for a desk job. He needs to be out there, leading his team. Taking charge of this city, his teams. Exploring through the Stargate. Not babysitting me day in and day out. And you are the one to convince him, Rodney."

"Okay...but me? I mean, Carson is better at this kind of–"

"No. Carson would be too nice. You won't be. You will be brutally honest and sarcastic, which is just what John needs to hear. He doesn't need to be coddled. Rodney, we have to get him to reverse his decision now before Weir returns or–"

"All hell will break loose, yeah, I can see that, Moira." Rodney sighed. Considered. "Okay. I will do what I can. But I still think if he won't listen to you he won't–" Rodney paused as the door chimed. Moira turned as the door opened. John stood there. Eying them. Frowning.

"And what the hell is this?" he asked mildly. Gaze narrowing.

"You caught us, John. Rodney and I are having a torrid affair," she quipped, moving past him to the outer lab. "I need to get some work done. Excuse me."

Rodney stepped out, shrugged at his friend's ire. "Likewise. Although, to be honest she's not really my type."

"Ha ha." John watched him leave, turned as Moira was taking a seat at a computer. The screen flared to life. "So? What was that about? Moira?"

"I told you, sweetie. Now run along like a good boy so I can get some work done, all right?"

He scowled. Moved to her. Touched her shoulders. Fingers kneading the violet fabric of her t-shirt. "Hilarious, Moira. I'm not changing my mind."

She glanced at him. Saw his recalcitrant pose. Scowl. But clad in his BDUS, black t-shirt and gray pants. Double holster straps encircling his thigh. "Whatever, sweetie. I have work here. All kinds of sciency stuff. I'll meet you for lunch at eleven. Okay, John?"

He was silent. She turned back to her work, trying to ignore him. Bringing up scrolling data. Opening another window to make comparisons. Trying to ignore the feel of his gentle caresses on her shoulders. Finally he leaned close. Kissed her cheek. "Eleven," he said into her ear. Spun on his heels and was gone. Boots noisy on the floor. Moira sighed, shaking her head.

* * *

The slamming of a clipboard on the table made John start. He looked up from his data pad, stared at Rodney. "Yes?"he asked.

"Found it! Or rather, another like it. So grab your gear and let's go!" Rodney headed for the door.

"Whoa! Found what? Rodney!" John called, but the scientist was gone. Swearing John grabbed the clipboard. Saw a mess of schematics, numbers, figures all coalescing into a dizzy miasma. He dropped the clipboard onto the table. Left the conference room and headed for the control room. Found Rodney haranguing a technician, bringing up a screen of 'Gate addresses. "Rodney! Found what?" he repeated harshly. Tone so gruff a technician yelped, dropping a set of tools. A nearby marine half raised his gun in alarm. Lowered it with a sheepish shrug.

Rodney glanced at him. "The next piece in the puzzle. The alien tech! I think I've found the source! So get your gear and Conan and let's go!" He turned back to the screen. "Isolate the identical third chevrons in each one and I can collate the–"

"Rodney! Found what? And don't make me ask again!" John snarled.

Rodney turned to him. "Haven't you been listening? The alien tech! I think I've found the source! From your own extrapolations of those deserted planets, taken from Moira's own work on the reverse migratory patterns. This alien tech...is from our galaxy, and now I can prove it. Moreover there might be more on this planet. So we need to gear up and go now. From these readings the planet is quite desolate but with barely breathable atmosphere, so we'll need our vac suits...possibly. Things could have changed over thirty years in the planet's ecosystem. I can–"

"Slow down, damn it! From our galaxy?" John asked, trying to reign in his anger at the scientist's rush of words, enthusiasm. Insistence.

"Yes! Haven't you been listening to me?" Rodney declared. "Blue crystalline. From P3X-562."

"Blue what?" John asked.

"Haven't you read any of the old SGC mission reports? Geez! Blue crystalline life forms! Able to mimic our forms, access our memories, but more importantly are composed of electrical impulses, emit a low EM energy field! Beings entirely composed of energy! Well, not entirely as they can take a natural crystalline form, and here, well, perhaps a variant of their race, their species, whatever! Probably at one point had actual physical forms, hence the actual physical tech they left behind them! Migrated or were taken here or seeded or whatever that's not important! What is, what is important that this tech, this stuff, these aliens may still be out here! The Wraith–"

"Stop! You think those aliens could be out here? The same ones? I think I recall that mission report," John noted, trying to remember. " So far we haven't encountered any weird blue crystal people in our travels."

"Not yet! And they're not people. Not exactly. Maybe once they were, who knows? And out here they could be different! Have evolved differently, in clusters. They could be yellow for all we know! Living in trees! The point is the Wraith would have no use for them but ah, the Ancients would! I surmise there was a fallout, a war between the two and that's why their cities are now ruined! But we need to go to..." He glanced at the screen, "PR2M79 to find out for certain and to recover more of this tech which I can successfully interface with ours! What?"

John broke from his stare. "Fine. Take Lorne. You have a go. I–"

"What? What? We don't need Lorne! Oh! As replacement for Teyla, got it. Get your–"

"No. I'm not going. You have a go, Rodney. I'll get you Ronon and Lorne and you can–"

"Excuse me? As flattered as I am that you finally acquiesce to me becoming the team leader you need to come along as well. You are part of this team, Sheppard. So get your gear and we–"

"No. I am needed here."

"To do what? Babysitting Moira? Shouldn't you wait until she actually has the baby first?"

"Just go on your damn...oh. Ah. That's what you were doing in there. Moira," he realized, frowning.

"Yes, John. Don't be an ass! Lead your team, would you? It's your job, isn't it?"

"My job, McKay, is to protect this city and its inhabitants. One of whom happens to be my pregnant wife. Remember what happened the last time I was away from her?"

"Yes. I do. And that is why you need to be out there," Rodney gestured towards the Stargate, "not here twiddling your thumbs!"

John's gaze narrowed. The silence in the control room was absolute. "Don't." One word, softly spoken. The dangerous edge cutting like a knife across the air.

"Don't what?" Rodney challenged, fearless. Impassioned. "Are you a coward, is that it, John? Afraid to go through the Stargate? Afraid to trust to your own protocols, your own men, your own city? Afraid to trust to the intelligence of your own wife? Ah, is that it? Are you so tied to her apron strings now that you can't take a step away from her to do your own job now? Can't be a man, Sheppard? To tied to mommy's apron strings?"

The punch came out nowhere. Landed hard on Rodney's left eye, cheek. He spun, spluttered, fell heavily to the console. Lights flared and a screen rose from the desk. Rodney fell to the floor, yelping in pain. Surprise.

John stared, almost as surprised as his friend. He glanced at his fist, not knowing how his hand had formed one. He unclenched his fingers. Looked back at Rodney who was scrambling to his knees, hand at his eye. Mouth moving but no words were coming. "Um...Rodney...I..."

"Jesus, John! What the hell? I just wanted you to do your job, to lead your team on a viable mission, not hit me! You hit my eye! I could lose the sight in this eye!" he moaned, voice rising in tone as he staggered to his feet. "What the hell? Moira was right! You are an Alpha jerk sometimes! Jesus! I may have permanent visual damage! I may have to get an artificial–"

"Oh for God's sake, Rodney, you'll be fine!" John snapped to his friend's whining. "Sorry. Um, get your gear. We head out in ten. Have Beckett take a look at it. You'll be fine." He turned as Rodney kept muttering, heading for the infirmary. "Get back to work! Sargent, have that address ready to go!" he ordered.


	10. Chapter 10

Conditioned Assocation10

"Oh my God! Rodney, what happened?" Moira rushed to the scientist's side as Carson was preparing an ice pack. Rodney's left eye was a spectacular mass of purple and blue bruises. Swollen shut. His cheek inflamed.

"What does it look like? That brute of a husband of yours, that's what?"

"What? Why? You mean he believed the affair?" she quipped.

"What? Oh ha ha! No!"

"Affair? What affair?" Carson asked, glancing from one to the other. "Hold still, Rodney! You'll be fine. But you won't be leaving the city for a day or so."

"You see? This is what I get for prodding John off his backside to go on a mission!" Rodney whined, flinching as Carson held up a bandage.

"So it worked?" she asked.

"It worked," he whined.

"That's brilliant!" Moira hugged him as Carson stepped aside, baffled by their conversation. "I knew you could do it!"

"Again? At this rate I will believe you are having an affair," John quipped, joining them.

Moira freed Rodney, turned to John. "John Sheppard! How could you? What on Earth possessed you to–"

"I called him a momma's boy, a coward," Rodney explained. "Tied to your apron ow! OW!"

"Now who is acting like a momma's boy?" Carson asked. "Hold still!" He applied a bandage, pressing it carefully over the ugly bruise.

"Sorry, Rodney." John shrugged. Met Moira's gaze. "I...um..."

"Sorry, Rodney," she echoed, turning back to the physicist. "But thank you. John." She headed across the room. John sighed, almost flinching as he expected her anger to hit him. He followed after her reluctantly.

"Look, Moira, I just–" he began, trying to head off her accusations.

"I know." She touched his arm. "I understand. About that. Your reaction. But John, you do see our point, don't you? Mine?" She stepped closer to him. "I know you want to protect me. Keep me safe. And you do. You have. You will. But not by quitting your job and your responsibilities. You will keep us safe," she took his hand, placed it on her abdomen, "by doing your job. By leading your team. By going through the 'Gate."

He smiled. "Sounds like you want to get rid of me, Moira."

"Of course not, John. I love your company. But we have jobs . Important jobs. And this, this little baby is depending on both of us to continue in those jobs. To make a safe haven for him. Or her. Whatever. So you will lead your team, colonel. Well, once Rodney can see with both eyes, that is."

"I heard that! It's not funny!" Rodney whined. "Ouch! Could you make the tape any tighter?"

"Yes, I could," Carson retorted. Shaking his head.

"Fine. I see your point. I guess. I just..." He left the rest unsaid. The guilt. The fear of loss a dark echo in his mind. Loss of his wife. His child. His gaze briefly rested on her bruised lip. The cut on her cheek.

She smiled. Kissed his lips. "I know. Don't you worry, sweetie. Everything will be fine," she said softly. Added coyly, "besides, I still need you around here for a little while, flyboy. Two o'clock. Sheppard's delight. Cravings, you know. Okay?"

He met her playful gaze, grinned. "Absolutely, baby. You can count on me."

* * *

John reclined in a chair in Elizabeth Weir's office. Waiting. Waiting as Elizabeth read his report. Watching her reactions to his concise rendition of the recent events. Glanced subtly at his watch. Checking the time. Recalling Moira's teasing. Flirtation.

Elizabeth finally met his gaze. Sighed. "I seem to have missed quite a lot."

"Yes."

"And city is secure now?"

"Yes. We're back to normal. Mostly." He wondered at her reaction when she saw Rodney. His black eye. Bruised face. "I sincerely hope that's the last queen we ever encounter."

"You didn't keep any tissue samples or body parts?"

"No. Only what Carson already had before this transpired. I deemed the threat too severe."

"I see. And you strengthened the protocols. There's no way you could have prevented this, John. You followed your own protocols to the letter."

"Still, it was a near thing." He paused, pushed aside the rush of bad memories. "With the Alpha site compromised I suggest we look around for another one. Just in case."

"Yes, I concur. I'm sorry about Lieutenant Josephes. You've put Lorne's team on stand down for awhile?"

"Yes." John met her gaze. "Until I find a suitable replacement. Well..." he smiled. "Two."

"Two? Why two?"

John's smile broadened. "Moira. Moira's pregnant. So I need two replacements, for now. I'm thinking just two marines, not another scientist unless there's a call for one. I don't want Moira getting upset at some other scientist taking over her turf, so to speak. I'm thinking Watts or maybe Gordon to replace Josephes. Both need more off-world experience and–"

"Moira's pregnant?" Elizabeth asked slowly. Staring at him.

John smiled. Shrugged. "Yeah. She's..." he calculated, "heading for her second month now, I think. And she can't travel safely through the 'Gate until the second trimester, so she is grounded here for awhile. Well?" He waited. "Normally I receive congratulations at this point."

"What? Oh, of course! Congratulations, John! I...that just threw me..." Elizabeth stammered, not sounding pleased at all. "I mean...were you even planning to–"

"No. Not really. Not now, I mean. It just, um, happened. You know. As I was saying Carson says it will be another month or two before she can resume 'Gate travel. But I prefer she not leave Atlantis. If she insists I have contingency plans in place to ensure her safety. As you may have guessed my son will be quite strong in the ATA gene, and we need to take suitable precautions. Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth was still staring at him. Brows furrowed. Expression frozen in shock, surprise. Almost as if she couldn't understand him. As if he was speaking an alien language to her. "You got Moira pregnant?" she uttered.

He shrugged again. "Um, yes. It was me. I am her husband, after all."

"I know that! I just meant an unplanned pregnancy is the last thing we need right now! Do you realize what an impact this will have on the city? On you?"

He frowned. "Yeah, I do have some idea..." he laconically noted.

"No, I don't think you do." Elizabeth sat forward, arms folded in front of her on the desk. "Look, John, I am happy for you, really, I am, but this...this does complicate matters. You are the military commander of Atlantis! Have you even considered how you are going to juggle all of your responsibilities? Your job. Your responsibilities to the city, to your team, to your own men? Are you honestly telling me you are prepared to handle of all that plus being a husband and now a father?"

"Yes," he answered simply. Voice terse.

"Yes? Really? Let me see...you've already allocated additional resources to watch over your wife if she goes off-world."

"There is a very real threat, Elizabeth," he insisted, folding his arms across his chest. Adopting a stubborn stance.

"Even so, I need you focused on the city and the personnel as well, John. I can't have you distracted, or worse, refusing to leave the city to be with her. And you will be distracted, admit it. How could you not be? Especially as the time comes for her to have the baby."

"I can do both," he asserted. "Look, it wasn't planned, but it happened. It was going to happen eventually. And I, for one, wouldn't change a thing. Not a damn thing, and nor would Moira. We want this. We both do. And we'll adjust to all the changes."

"You sound like you are trying to convince yourself, John. Did you need to convince Moira as well? Are you certain she sees things the way you do?"

"Yes! She does, now. I'll still do my job, Doctor Weir. I do know my priorities."

"Do you?" She frowned. "It doesn't sound like it to me. An unplanned pregnancy? You should have been more careful! You should have taken precautions!"

John stood. "Why? We're not a couple of teenagers, Elizabeth! We are married!"

"You are acting like one, John! You should have known better! If not you then certainly Moira should have! Are you prepared at all? All the things you will need! She will need for the baby! My God, John, there's going to be a baby in the city! Your baby!"

"Yes, I know!" he flared. "We know exactly what we need and when we will need it! I expected better of you, Doctor Weir! Everyone else is delighted for us! This is a joyous event and you can only see it as an inconvenience to your expedition!"

"Everyone else?" She stood. "What, am I the last to know? John!"

"Yes, you are! Can you blame me if this is your reaction?"

"Yes, I can! I should have been informed first! I expected better of you, Colonel Sheppard! More planning, certainly, more preparedness! I hope you checked the mission roster because I am not changing a damn thing on it! Not a thing, except in regards to Lorne's team."

"Fine! Those are the only changes I will accept!"

"Fine! You should have told me first!" she declared. A trace of hurt in her voice, on her face.

John ignored it. "Fine. Next time my sperm make it all the way I will send you a memo!" He strode out of the office, not waiting for her reply, her rebuke. Fuming as he clenched his fists at his sides.


	11. Chapter 11

Conditioned Association11

Moira sat in the biology lab at her console. Typing. Pausing to eat. Typing again. "I've almost got this section collated."

"Excellent." Peter Harrison sat across from her. "I'm cross-referencing the known data. Ready to turn the prehistoric world on its head?"

She smiled. "Absolutely!" They laughed. "We need to gather more samples. Maybe in a few months..."

"Why can't you request a mission now?"

"Um," Moira hedged, "I can't. It won't have high priority. Best to wait until things settle down a bit, you know." She was loath to mention the real reason. Knew it would be obvious soon enough.

"I'm sure you ask Colonel Sheppard, probably even persuade him, Moira. If not for the scientific importance than at least for the–"

"I said no, Peter. I'm sorry. It will have to wait a few months," she insisted.

"If you just asked Colonel Sheppard–"

"Ask Colonel Sheppard what?" John interrupted, entering the room.

"Nothing," Moira quickly answered. Turned away to eat. John watched, puzzled expression on his face. Seeing her dip a French fry into a carton of vanilla ice cream.

"Colonel, I merely wanted to request a mission to–"

"I said no, Peter! I can't go now!"

"Go where?" John asked, heading for her.

"To what we've been erroneously calling Pleistocene Park," Peter informed, perplexed at Moira's obstinate refusals. "Colonel, I know this is low on your list of priorities and no doubt you do not see the scientific importance of our work here, apart from the Wraith studies, but this is groundbreaking! Factual evidence of living prehistoric life! I'm sure Moira has told you."

"Repeatedly," John quipped, glancing at her. He watched her dip another fry into the ice cream. Eat it. When she met his gaze he raised a brow. She shrugged, resumed her work.

"Well, we need more. More samples, more data, more observations to draw up a highly detailed classification of each ancient species and their evolutionary branches. I don't see why you couldn't authorize Moira's team to return to Pleistocene Park on a evidentiary mission to retrieve vital–"

"No. At least not for two months." He snatched a fry off her plate, ate it.

"Colonel, I don't see why not. Granted it's a low priority mission but our–"

"That's not the issue," John stated curtly. "Hasn't Moira told you?"

"Told me?" Peter glanced at her, becoming more confused by the second.

"John, please," Moira whispered. Frowning.

John plunged ahead, ignoring her. "Moira's pregnant. So she won't be going through the 'Gate any time soon."

"Moira's..." Peter smiled. "Congratulations! That's wonderful news! Moira, why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have complained about all those mid-morning disappearances, and late arrivals, and early departures if I had known! God I feel like such a fool for berating you! I'm sorry!"

"Damn it, John!" Moira flared. Stood, shoving her food aside. "I didn't want anyone else to know yet! Not yet! Anything could happen! I don't want to be treated differently!"

"It's all right, Moira, you–" Peter tried to soothe.

She whirled, tears in her eyes. "No! It's not all right!" She turned back to John. "Why don't you ever listen to me?" She grabbed her laptop and stormed out of the lab. Furious.

John sighed. Shrugged. "Seems I can't put a foot right today." He eyed the biologist. "Berating her?"

His tone made Peter inwardly wince. "Yes. I...she was late most mornings and every day at eleven would disappear, make some excuse to leave. Return late in the afternoon. I'm sorry. I didn't know she was–"

"Now you do. Adjust accordingly." John snatched the food, strode out of the room.

Moira stood in the Wraith lab, setting her laptop on the desk. Trying to stem the tears, the anger. The embarrassment. She heard footsteps behind her. Knew. "Go away!"

"No." John approached her slowly. Set the food on the desk. "Is this some new craving of yours? French fries in ice cream?"

"Yes." She turned away from him. "Go away," she repeated. "It's these damn hormones, John! I'll be fine in a minute!"

"Okay. I can wait a minute." He watched her trying to control her emotions. He touched her shoulder. "Moy–"

"Don't!" She stepped away from him. Hands over her face now, trying to stifle the sobs.

"I'm sorry? Moira? You should have told him. I don't see why we can't tell everyone now," John reasoned, baffled by her mood swings.

"Fine! Go on the fucking PA and make your fucking announcement!"

"Don't push me, Moira, or I just might," he warned. "It's all right, sweetheart."

"Is it? So no one will treat me differently?"

"No. They will treat you differently. But isn't that to be expected? Since you're expecting? Moira, I thought you were all right with this now."

"I am! It's...it's the damn hormones, that's all! All this emotional...it's worse than my, my usual melodramatic extremes. I get so pissed, or so upset or I can't stop crying or I want to eat certain foods or I want to spend all day having wild sex with you or I want to shove you through the 'Gate so you will stop fussing over me like a mother hen! It's just a biological adjustment to the hormonal surges and physiological changes because of the, the baby!"

"Oh. You want to spend all day having wild sex with me? I'm fine with that."

She smiled, wiped her eyes. "Yeah, I bet you are," she caustically noted.

"Seriously, Moira. If that's what you need. Wasn't it to be at two o'clock?" He stepped closer. "I will be more than happy to oblige your every, every need. Every craving."

"Okay, John. Thank you."

"Hey, I do what I have to do to keep the pregnant woman happy."

She turned to him finally. He was smiling fondly, love in his brilliant green eyes. Concern. "John." She moved into his arms. Held on tightly. "I'm sorry! I just...there's so much to do and I don't have time and I don't know what to do first and I–"

"No." He kissed her, held her close. "It's all right, Moira. It will be fine, I promise. You don't have to do everything at once, okay? Focus on one project, not five. Haven't I been telling you that over and over?" He kissed her brow, stroking her back, her hair. "Is it any wonder I don't want to leave the city? At this rate with your superpowers you might implode the city if someone looks at you the wrong way."

She laughed softly. "True." She sighed. Met his gaze, pulling back a little. "Sorry. I don't mean to be such a basket case."

"So what else is new? Ow!" he protested as she hit his arm. Smiled. Kissed her. "My Moira." Tenderly ran his thumb over her bruised lip, her cut cheek. "Better now?"

"Yes. Um..." A blush surfaced.

His smile broadened. "Craving? Please, please say it is the sex one. I could really use it."

"You? What else is new?" She tried to move away but he drew her back to his arms.

"I, um, had to tell Weir. You know. About John junior."

"Oh." She wondered at his tone. His use of her last name. Not her first. "It didn't go well?"

"Um, no. Don't you worry, baby. I'll handle it. Nothing's going to touch you."

"Sweetie...do you need a beer?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"That bad?"

"Yeah." He kissed her. Checked his watch. "Are we still on schedule? Because if we are we have ten minutes before Sheppard's delight."

She smiled. "Okay, John. I should go apologize to–"

"No. I took care of it. If he berates you again he will answer to me."

"What? Now who is going to implode the city? John! He had every right to complain since I was negligent and kept–"

"It's sorted, Moy. Hush." He kissed her. "See you in ten. Ours. And if that pert little ass of yours is late I will announce John junior on the PA loud and clear."

"Okay, okay, I won't be late!" she agreed, shaking her head.

He smiled. Snatched a handful of fries. "I'll get that beer. You want a lemonade?"

"Yes, please."

"Pink?"

"As always."

"All right." He checked his watch again. "Eight." He snatched some more, smiled at her playful frown. Left quickly.

Moira sighed. Staring fondly after him. Wondered what Elizabeth had said to him. She grabbed the ice cream, the laptop, and headed for her room.


	12. Chapter 12

Conditioned Association12

John entered their room. Frowned. Moira was sitting at the table, working. Finishing her fries and ice cream. Expression serious as she typed. Pondered. Compared. "Damn it, woman, what do I have to do?" he complained, nearing. He set down three bottles. Grabbed the laptop and shoved it across the table.

"John! I was just about to track the mRNA sequences that may hold the key to–"

"Don't care! Here!" He sat, shoved a bottle of pink lemonade at her.

She took it. Eyed his two bottles of beer. "Wow. That bad?"

He shrugged. Opened one and drank half it in long swallows. He set it down. "I'm not talking about it, so don't even try, baby. And don't you rush off to see Weir either. I mean it, Moira."

"I think I need to talk to–"

"No!" He slammed his palm on the table. "I mean it. For once, for once you will do as you are told, damn it!" He drank.

Moira frowned. Sipped her lemonade. "Wow. Talk about my mood swings, John. Geez! I'm sorry, John. About earlier. I was–"

"No. No apologies. Relax, baby. It's just us now." He smiled. "The three of us. And that's all that matters." His gaze traveled over her body. Seeing no visible sign of the pregnancy yet. He stared at her fuller breasts for a moment, drinking more beer. Met her gaze, saw her annoyance. Smirked. "Sorry."

"Like hell you are," she chided. Shifted. Eyed him. The tension in his body. Anger coiling, ready to pounce. To be turned into passion. Hot passion. Sweaty sex. She licked her lips. "Are you going to tell me what Weir said?"

"No." John started on the second beer.

Moira sighed. "I bet she wasn't too pleased to hear you knocked me up by accident."

"That's a bet you'd win, baby."

She took the beer from him, causing a pout. She set it aside. "Sweetie, you need to tell me. Don't pretend everything's fine because it isn't. You don't have to protect me from this."

"Don't I? So that little show in the bio lab was just for entertainment purposes? I don't think so, baby. Not at all."

"John Sheppard, don't you dare treat me any differently or keep things from me! Don't! Or I swear I will never forgive you!"

He replied calmly, "Fine. I won't keep things from you. But I will treat you differently because you are pregnant, Moy. With my son. Deal with it."

She glared at him. "God I hate you sometimes!" she sighed.

"Back at you, baby. What do you expect? Of course I have to treat you differently. You are pregnant!" He snatched the beer bottle away from her.

"Thanks to you and your–" she began.

"Damn sperm, yes, mine. Mine, baby, no one else's. Mine." He drank some beer. "Hey!" he complained as she took it. Sipped. Grimaced and handed it back.

"Fuck this, John," she muttered.

He smiled. "This? I thought you wanted to fuck me, baby."

"Shut up! I'm serious!" She sighed, stared at the table. "This! All of this. I, I don't want things to change. I mean things were perfect before. Between us, our work, your team, Weir, even she was getting used to us being together. To me being with you. You with me. And now we've fucked it up, haven't we? But I want this baby, John. I do! I honestly never thought I'd ever have one, you know? After, after...but with you...yes. I want this baby, but I guess...we should have considered every problem. I mean, if it jeopardizes all we have here...your job...I'm sure she doesn't think you can handle all of this, of that. But you can, John, you can."

"How the hell do you do that?" he muttered. Scooting closer. He touched her hand. "Moira, it won't come to that. It is still perfect between us, sweetheart. Nothing's changed, except now we're expecting a child."

"I'm expecting," she corrected.

"Right. You're expecting, doctor. You know what I mean. I want John junior. I always want you. Even if means we would have to pack our collective bags and return to Earth. But it won't come to that. I promise you. Weir and I...overreacted. It will sort itself out, trust me. We'll be fine, Moira. Nothing will come between us. Nothing. No one. And John junior...he will be the best of both of us."

She relaxed. Stood. Shoved the plates, the bottles aside. Sat on the table. Smiled coyly at him. "Nothing between us, sweetie? Is that so? Hmm...what time is it, John?"

He stood, smiling. Glanced at his watch. "Two. Ah."

She pulled him into a kiss. "Ah indeed, colonel."

* * *

Elizabeth strode down the hallway, determined. Upset at the argument she had had with John. At her stunned reaction to his news. Was still reeling from the revelation of Moira's pregnancy. Irritated at how calm he had been. Smug even. Not troubled at all by the sweeping changes that would inevitably have to take place. Hurt that she appeared to be the last on the list of people who were being told. As if the trust was eroding between them. The friendship.

She reached his quarters. Hand raised to knock on the door but paused. Noises were erupting from within the room. Loud creaks and smashes, as if something heavy was being moved. Or broken. Or ridden. She almost waved her hand over the panel, alarmed at the noises of destruction, of wood being scraped along the floor when she heard a distinct grunt. Her hand froze over the panel. Lips smirking as she discerned the other sounds. A man's grunting, groaning. A woman's soft cries, whimpers. Sounds escalating.

Elizabeth felt a blush on her cheeks. Suppressing a laugh she quickly moved on. Strolled briskly down the hall, around the corridors. Waiting. Glanced at her watch. Waited. Returned when she judged sufficient time had passed. She paused, about to knock but the sounds were still audible. Louder now, faster. Voices rising in pitch as the furniture noises grew louder, louder.

She sighed. Shook her head and strolled down the hallway again. The laugh escaping her at last. She glanced at her watch. Impressed. She strolled, stood waiting. Wondering just how much time needed to pass before she could safely interrupt.

"Elizabeth? Did you need me? I was just on my way to the cafeteria to–" Carson joined her, staring. Clipboard under one arm.

"No, Carson, I'm waiting for John."

"Oh. Waiting in the corridor?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you just knock on his door?"

"He's...um...busy. What happened to Rodney's eye again?" she diverted.

"Busy? Busy doing what? He...oh..." Carson smiled. "It is two o'clock, isn't it?"

Elizabeth raised a brow. "Is this a regular thing, then?"

Carson shrugged. "Aye. Lucky bastard," he muttered. "Things will calm down soon enough. Possibly. I mean, Moira's going through a lot of physiological changes and hormonal surges, but she'll be fine. More than fine, actually," he added slyly. Amused.

"I see. Still..." She glanced at her watch. "It's been almost ten minutes?"

"Really? Well...no one ever said the colonel lacked stamina." They laughed. "I'd give it another ten or so."

"Ten? Seriously?"

"Aye. At least." He headed down the hall. Turned back to her. "No. Better make it fifteen."

* * *

The knocking on the door broke the sated silence. John groaned softly, shifting. Resting on Moira as she was still sprawled on the table. "What the fuck..." he muttered. Lifted his head to view her. Moira was smiling. Brown eyes sparkling with warmth.

"John? I need a word, please," came Elizabeth's voice from the other side of the door.

"Shit." John kissed Moira, straightened, sliding out of her. "Just a sec!" he called over his shoulder. Quickly shoved himself into his shorts, his pants. "Well, at least it wasn't mid-coitus, for once, baby."

Moira giggled as he pulled her up, off the table. "Hilarious, John." She kissed him. "Go!" She pushed him, grabbed her discarded pants and panties and moved to the bathroom. Shut the door.

John's gaze lingered on the flash of her naked rear before she disappeared. He zipped his pants. Smoothed down his shirt and moved to the door. Opened it. "Elizabeth," he said. "Please."

She entered the room, smirking at his cool, calm demeanor. His rumpled clothes, belt undone, askew. Hair more tousled than normal. A serene, self-satisfied gleam in his brilliant green eyes. "John, I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to...what happened to the table?"

John turned, trying not to smirk. The table was bare. Scooted up out of place. Flowers were strewn on the floor, along with empty trays, empty bottles. One chair overturned. A data pad on the floor. "Nothing. We were...redecorating," he decided on the word.

"Oh." Elizabeth quelled her amusement, her speculation, trying to imagine the passionate activity that had taken place on the table. Imagined John taking Moira in that fashion. Rough. Wild. Bare buttocks clenching with each aggressive thrust. Startled at her thoughts she swallowed. Turned to him. "I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to react like that. It was quite a shock. I mean, first learning what had taken place here in my absence. A Wraith queen and all! And then your news about Moira. That was the last thing I expected."

"Yes," he agreed, gaze flicking to the still closed bathroom door. He knew Moira was probably listening to every word. "Same here. Unexpected, but we're over that now. Aren't we, Moira?" he called loudly. Deliberating baiting.

Moira inwardly swore. She opened the door. Hair in a neat ponytail. Clothes smoothed over her body. Only her flushed face, her dreamy gaze betraying her. "Yes, John," she agreed, giving him an admonishing look.

"I can make this work, Elizabeth," John continued. "I'm not saying it will be easy, but I can make it work. We both can."

"I believe you, John. And you have my support, of course! We can work this out as we go along. Congratulations, Moira!" The last sounded like an afterthought.

"Thank you," Moira said, gaze assessing the other woman.

John looked at his wife, recognizing her studious expression. Wondered at it as he met Elizabeth's gaze again. "There's really nothing to work out. I mean I can still do my job. Go through the 'Gate and all," he glanced at Moira again, "the normal stuff. There's only a few adjustments to be made here. And once Moira is able and willing to return to active duty."

"Of course. Did you want some time off now?"

John considered. "No. I'll need time later, though. Once we are closer to the birth." He glanced at Moira again but she was silent. Eying the other woman as if she were a specimen.

"Of course, John. Whatever time you need. I guess we should throw Moira a baby shower. Moira?" Elizabeth turned to her, as if just remembering she was in the room.

Moira shrugged. "No. No thank you." She moved to the table. Began to return the trays to it. The flowers. That data pad. She pulled the table back into place, smirking at it's awkward angle. The creaking of one wooden leg.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind." Elizabeth headed towards the door, suddenly feeling out of sorts. As if she had opened the door to witness the apparently vigorous sex.

John followed, glancing back at his wife. "Yeah, we will. We've got a mission lined up once Rodney's eye is better."

"Yes. About that. Strange how he walked into a door?"

John smiled. "Yeah, strange. You know scientists and how pre-occupied they can be by their own thinking. We can discuss the mission specs later." John shut the door after she left. Turned to view his wife as she arranged the flowers on the table. Her back to him. "Well?"

Moira opened the data pad. "I've got all of this mRNA sequencing to do, but I need Carson's help on this. Plus I really should check on the trajectory of the migration patterns. John, I need to know your theory on the deserted planets but we can discuss that this evening, all right? There's more Wraith data to input as well, from the female. I think there's a direct link between the additional Iratus bug DNA and the queen's enhanced powers, but I'm not quite sure what it is yet. I wish we had an entomologist on this expedition. Anyway, I can collate the respective..."

She paused. "John?"

John was standing in front of the door, blocking her. Expression suspicious. Eyes narrowed. Arms crossed in front of his chest. "Well?" he repeated.

"Well what?" She stepped to him, data pad in hand. "Move."

"No. Spill it. Spill it now, Moy. Well?" She frowned, silent. "Come on, Moy. I know that look. Shit, you've studied me like that more times than I care to remember. So? Well? All is fine between Elizabeth and myself now. And yes, no doubt she knew were engaged in some pretty intense, exuberant coitus, but so what? I don't think she needed a demonstration of exactly how I impregnated you, but hey, live and learn, baby. Next time I'll hang a sock on the door. So? Moira? Everything's fine, now, baby. You. Me. John junior. My job. Missions. All of it. Moira? Damn it, Moy, what is it?"

Moira touched his arm. Ran her fingers along his skin. Kissed him. "Isn't it obvious, John? She's developed a thing for you."

Too stunned to respond John could only watch as she stepped by him and out of the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Conditioned Association13

Moira yawned. She closed the lap top. Put away various samples, vials. Shut off the microscope. Turned off the computers. She trudged slowly to her room. Entered. Moved to the table and set down her data pad. She freed her hair, ran her fingers through it. Quickly undressed. Put on a pale green nightshirt. Fuzzy socks. Stepped across the threshold to John's room. Smiled.

John was seated at the table. He had a serious expression on his handsome face, chin in hand. Staring at his laptop. Brilliant green eyes intent on the screen. He had on an olive green t-shirt, camouflage boxer shorts. Bare feet. Curious about what had his undivided attention she stepped to him. Stood behind him to view the monitor. Stared. A photo he had taken of her filled the screen. Rose petals on her naked rear. He was zooming in closer, closer on her most intimate areas revealed teasingly by her posture until the pixels blurred.

"John Sheppard!"

He nearly jumped. Closed the file. Almost spinning the laptop on the table. "Shit! Moira, don't do that!" he scolded.

She laughed. Touched his shoulders. "And here I thought you were hard at work on your mission specs! Instead I find you staring at, at porn!"

He smirked. "Not porn. Carefully poised, artistic photos. It...um...helps me relax, baby. Helps me wile away the time waiting for you to finish your science stuff." He glanced at her sheepishly. Gaze roving over the nightshirt hugging her curves.

"I see." She began to massage his shoulders, earning an appreciative grunt. "Sorry, John. I am trying to catch up and lost track of the time. I'm surprised you didn't send out an search squad for me," she teased. Ran her mouth lightly up his throat.

"I would have, believe me, but you don't want me to fuss like a mother hen," he grumbled. "I prefer to think of it as keeping my mate in line. In my territory. Alpha male and all. Looks like I'll be going off-world soon, baby. But not for long."

"I see," she repeated. "Huh. And this is how you relax, John? I would have thought a photo like that, particularly with that zoom feature you were so deftly using would have done the opposite. Would have at the very least turned you on. Gotten you off. Gotten you hard."

He grinned. "Yeah, well, I was trying to be polite, Moira."

She snorted. "Since when?" She laughed as he scowled at her. Slid round as he scooted back from the table. She slid onto his lap, straddled him. The nightshirt rode up her bare thighs. "Hmm...I guess you were a little hard...at work," she teased.

He smiled. Ran his hands up her thighs. "About to become hard, baby. Ah...going commando this evening?" he asked happily, feeling no panties to block him, impede him.

She smiled. Shifted. "Yes, sweetie. No trophy for you this evening. You should get some sleep, John. Especially if you are leaving soon. I know what you're doing."

"You do? Besides getting a hard-on?" he asked. He kissed her, scooting her along the hardening length of him. His hands slid up to cup her breasts.

"Yes, sweetie. You are avoiding going to sleep because of that nightmare. But you have to sleep, John." She smiled. "Besides, I need you ready for deployment, solider, at two o'clock."

He laughed. "Ah. Yes, I do need to be ready for active duty, don't I, baby? Actually I figured if I was overtired I wouldn't dream at all. If only there was a way to make me really, really tired," he teased, pretending to be puzzled. "You know, something to drain me to the point of exhaustion."

"No idea, sweetie. Read a book." She kissed him, slipped off his lap. Took his hand. Tugged. "Come to bed, John." She led him to their room.

John watched her douse the lights. Pull back the blankets and adjust the pillows. Get into the bed. "Hey...what thing?"

"Huh?" She sat, gathering her hair together and then setting it free to swirl around her.

"The thing," he repeated. Standing near the bed. Watching her. The city lights gleaming across the bed, across her in a golden spill. "Weir?" he prompted.

"Oh. You heard, colonel."

"Yeah, I heard, but I must have misunderstood you, baby. You didn't mean that, did you?"

"Mean what?"

"Are you going to make me say it?" he asked, annoyed. He licked his lips.

"Come to bed, John." She watched him. He stood in the shadows. The dim lights barely touching him as he remained immovable. "John? Oh oh," she muttered. Even in the dark she could recognize that slow smile. The look of mischief and sensuality.

John lazily removed his shirt. Lifting it up, up off his torso, arms. Over his head. He tossed it onto the bed. Flexing his arms. Twisting his torso. "Nudity is required, Moira. Especially yours." He gestured at her nightshirt. "Off."

She smiled, sighed. "John," she pouted.

"Off. Now," he sternly said. "That's a direct order from your colonel, baby."

"Oh. From Colonel Sweetie?" she teased. Entering the game with a smile. She wiggled. Pulled off the nightshirt. Sliding the material slowly as the golden light illuminated her naked body. She tossed it towards him. Covered herself with the blankets.

"Drop the blankets, baby. Let me see those amazingly beautiful tits."

She sighed, shook her head. "Ah, the return of Colonel Romance. Charming, John. Tell me, does that work on all the girls?"

He smirked. "Yeah. Actually. But I only want to see yours, baby. And to be accurate it is Colonel Hard-On right now. So drop the modesty. I do like to watch."

She smiled, gazing at him as he stepped closer. The light touching him now. Playing on his handsome face, tousled hair. Glinting on his chest hair. His lean torso, strong arms. On the shorts he still wore. "Then drop the shorts, flyboy. Let's just see how hard that ordnance is. You could be exaggerating."

He snorted. "Never." He fingered the waistband. Licked his lips. Looked up at her with a slow, sly smile. "Why don't you come here and do it for me, baby. On your hands and knees. Pull down my shorts with only your teeth...and your tongue."

She stared. "You want kinky tonight, colonel?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Very kinky. I'm waiting." His voice lowered into a growl that sent a shiver along Moira's skin. The tone promising pleasure, sex. Intensity.

Moira licked her lips. Considering. She dropped the blankets. Moved to him on her hands and knees. In darkness and light. She reached him. Kissed along his waist. Tugged the boxers with her teeth. Tugged them lower, lower. John was staring, enjoying every second. The sight of her naked body stippled in shadow and dim lights. Her hair spilling all over. Curves and swells enticing. The feel of her mouth tugging at his shorts, sending a fission of desire, arousal along his body.

Moira freed the shorts, scooted back into the shadows. Met his gaze. "I can't, sweetie. They are hung up on your, um, hard-on." She giggled. "Did they cover this in your perimeter check?"

He smiled. "You are so fucking beautiful, Moira," he murmured. "Use those biological smarts of yours, baby. You're a paleontologist, right? You deal with boners all of the time."

She laughed. "Bones," she corrected. "You are mouth-watering, John. Let me consider the problem." She bit her lower lip. Moaned. Crawled to him. Lowered to run her mouth along his erection. John groaned. Shifting in delight, anticipation. Staring as her hair spilled along the curves of her back. As the light played upon her lifted rear. As her mouth teased, taunted him. She ran her mouth to the head. Circled it. Took it into her mouth. Gently sucked. Bit. Bit harder, tugging the material away from him.

John moaned in a breathy exhalation. "Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck," he muttered, staggering. He regained his footing. So hard now, tense, every nerve straining for copulation. Release.

Moira freed him. "Let me see...that should do it. I can get it now," she assured.

"You just had it," he complained, but smiled as she leaned lower. Kissing up his thigh. Grabbed the boxers with her teeth and tugged. Tugged.

John groaned in sexual delight as down they came. Gliding deliciously over his sensitive flesh. Moist from her mouth. Warm. "Oh fuck!" he enthused, hands clenching at his sides.

Moira scooted backwards, smiled. "Whoa there, soldier! You could put my out with that thing!" She scooted under the covers.

John laughed. Got in next to her. Yanked the blankets off her. "I did warn you, doctor. You should have just taken me into your mouth and sucked me off like one of your popsicles." He kissed her. Moving over her carefully. "My turn, baby...if I can make it that far." He slid his tongue into her mouth as his hands wandered. Wandered.

"Oh John," she purred breathlessly, becoming more and more aroused as his mouth ran to her ear. To nibble, gently bite. Nibble her throat. Hands sliding down to her breasts. Mouth following. She opened her legs, could feel his erection pressing, pressing. She arched as he slid down to her breasts. Dazzled as John took his time. Sucking gently to make her whimper, moan. She braced herself as he moved lower, lower. Whispered his son's name, kissing tenderly before moving more intimately. But he stopped. Lifted his head. "John? Yes," she said, expecting him to ask about going down on her.

He smiled at her passion, her yearning. Her surrender. "Are you going to be all right while I'm gone?"

She stared, the question unexpected. "I...huh? Yes, of course....don't you worry. What?" She saw his beautiful eyes full of merriment. Lust. The sly smile curving his full lips. He gave her a lop-sided smile.

"I meant if you happen to develop a craving for this. For sex. Will you be all right without me to assuage it? All of it?"

She smiled. Shifted. "Um...I don't know, sweetie. I guess I'll have to do my best all by myself."

He slid off her. Still pressing close. "Show me."

"What?"

He laughed at her startled expression. It was a low, masculine laugh. A sultry sound that sent shivers along her skin. "Show me," he repeated. "How you will assuage that particular craving."

"John!" she complained. Colored. His gaze wandered, returned to hers. His hand rested on her bare thigh. Fingers playing lightly along her skin. "You want double kinky tonight?"

"Yes. Show me, baby." Voice low, husky. Intimate and full of promise.

She sighed. Ran her hands along her breasts. Fondling, teasing. They were still wet from his mouth, his tongue. She slid her hands down between her legs. Caressed. "Happy now?"

"No. That won't give you any kind of relief, baby, none at all," he scolded, voice strained for a moment. So hard and tight now he thought he'd burst or come all over the bed. Stubbornly he resisted the urge to just take her. "None at all. Let me show you how. Otherwise I will worry about you, baby." He kissed her. Slid his hand down over hers, pressing both between her legs. Guiding her fingers along the sensitive folds, the cleft. The opening just waiting to be filled. He stroked roughly all the while kissing her deeply.

Moira whimpered, squirming. The sensations wild, vibrating. She gasped. Trying to free her hand from his. "John! Oh John, John!"

"Like this, baby, or you will never come. Make it so fucking wet you gush. Harder now, here. Faster, right there." His voice muffled against her skin as he guided her fingers and his into a fast, fast stroking. Probing. Entering to slide roughly against her nub. Moira arched, cried out in a breathless whimper. So aroused it was almost painful.

"John! John, please! John, John, John!" she cried.

"Right there, baby, right fucking there," he growled. Yanking there hands out of her. Thrusting his cock deeply. Groaning with the effort, the rush of possession, relief as she moaned. Writhed wildly under him. She grabbed onto him, nearly jerking upright at the intensity but John pushed her onto her back. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Of course no way is better than this way," he continued, as if lecturing her. Thrusting in and out of her at a steadily building momentum. "Bite." She ran her mouth to circle his ear. Bit. Bit harder as he thrust harder. Faster. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes, John! Yes, oh yes you...John! John!" she cried in pleasure, need. Rocking under him, with him as the bed rocked, rocked. The headboard began to slam against the wall.

He slowed, delaying the climax, straining at the effort. "Of course, there's all kinds of toys, devices, implements. But you can't top the real thing, baby...my ordnance so deep inside you."

"John! Will you shut up and just fuck me?" she snapped, thinking she might die of unfulfilled desire right then and there.

He smiled. Kissed her. "Gladly, baby. My pleasure. And yours. Fuck, here we go, all the way...if I don't cross the finish line I will explode!"

Moira cried out loudly, exulting in the sexual rush. The climax vibrant, sharp. Taking her wildly, a little roughly. Her moans and cries mingling with John's grunts and swearing. What was left of the headboard slamming the wall, snapping loudly almost like a gunshot. Causing her to tighten on him, to grab, to grasp.

John groaned in ecstatic pleasure that was almost pain as she gripped him tightly, tensely. Nevertheless he thrust eagerly. The bed rocking so wildly now it was creaking, scratching the floor under them. Shuddering now as the release hit him, drained him. Spurting wildly inside her until he slowed, slowed. Fell upon her with satisfied, spent groan. He shifted his weight off her. Kissed her gently. "Oh fuck." He hid his face in her hair. "Oh fuck me, Moira...fuck me like that again and I may not make it."

Moira kissed his brow. Stroked his back. "Easy, John...you know kinky turns you on. You didn't hurt yourself, did you, sweetie?"

"Baby, you have the sweetest, snuggest, wettest, hottest, tightest little fucking pus–"

"John!" She slapped his shoulder. "That's no way to talk to your wife! Your pregnant wife!" She kissed him. "Relax, sweetie. We can find your cock later." He gently laughed. "Say something romantic."

"Huh? I just did, baby. About your sweetest–"

"John!" She hit his arm.

He lifted his head. Kissed her. Tongue gliding for a long, languorous moment. He rolled off her. "How's that, then?

She smiled. "That will do." She laughed. Pounced on him suddenly. "Now, Colonel Sheppard, how about we go again? That is, if you can keep up with me." She kissed him.

John smiled. Grabbing her and rolling so she was beneath him again. "Just try and stop me, Doctor Sheppard."


End file.
